


March

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: A Year of Writing [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:23:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 39,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is but a small Hobbit in a very large world.</p><p>A collection of stories exploring the relationship a Hobbit has with other races.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Reoccuring Cycle Of Fault

It was all finally over, and Bilbo felt lost.

He was drowning in guilt and anguish, with images of Thorin lying pale and barely-breathing in his arms, with images of Azog with a blood-stained blade raised high, with images of dragons with scales the colour of rage and teeth as sharp as death itself. 

He stayed here in Erebor, because it felt wrong to leave. He ached to fix things, to make everything right again. Everything he had ever been taught as a child by his parents was fleeing from his mind, as if he had never truly learnt it.

Thorin was injured. Was hurt. Badly. It took a month just for his eyes to open again. Bilbo visited him when the other Dwarves didn't, because he couldn't stand their mournful eyes and the hard set of their lips that made him feel as thought everything that had happened was his _fault._

And it was.

It was all his _fault._

He'd admitted it to himself on ragged breaths, because he needed to hear it. It was all his _fault_ that Thorin was injured, that the princes had nearly died, that it was unlikely Kili would ever be able to fire an arrow properly again and that all those beautiful Elves and brave Men that had fallen would never return to their families. 

What was he to say to them? They told him it wasn't his fault, and that they didn't blame him - but they should have. Everything could be traced back to the decisions he made, the lies he told, the actions he took...

Bilbo locked himself away in his room. It was small, made of stone, and cold - he didn't light the wood ready to be burnt in the fireplace, because he felt like the cold was a punishment he deserved.

He tried to make the room more comforting. It was a pleasure he could allow himself, because he hadn't wilted away so much that he was blind to the fact his mind was becoming ill.

It helped, a little. Like the thief everyone had thought him to be, he squirreled away things from around Erebor that he liked. At first, it was just a few things - and then it was everything he could fit into his pockets, because no one even looked at him. No one noticed, and deep down he really wanted them to.

His walls were covered in paper nailed into the cracks in the stone. Maps, documents, his contract, drawn pictures of almost every Dwarf in the company. He had candles from Balin's personal stock melting on his bedside table, and silverware that Bombur prized scattered around them. He had somebody's flute, and books from Ori, as well as a knitted scarf and a small shawl. 

He had ceramic pots from a storeroom he had been told not to go into, and in them he had planted seeds he had found outdoors. They struggled to grow, but everyday he watered them with water he collected in Bofur's favourite mug. He had one of Fili's everyday hair beads, and a bracelet that Kili often wore wrapped around one of his personal arrows.

He had all his own personal belongings neatly stacked on the floor, around the piles and piles books he had stolen from the library. He had a chair from the dining hall over which he hung Thorin's fur-lined, blue cloak on. He had Orcrist (because Thorin would have no use for it at the moment, would he?) leaning against the bed, as well as somebody's axe, which must have weighed as much as he did.

There was a small pile of jewels shoved into a corner, because he couldn't stand to look at them but he hated not having them there. There were long strands of rope from which more pictures hung, wrapped around a post of his bed. He had extra pillows - he didn't even remember where they came from. 

The room reminded him of his Hobbit hole, but it wasn't the same.

One day, Bilbo didn't leave the room. He wondered if people would notice; if they would suddenly realise that so many little, unnoticeable things were just not where they should be.

No one did.

Bilbo didn't even hear his stomach rumbling.

He spent a second day curled up on his bed, on top of the messy covers, trying to cry loud enough to drown out the screams in his head.

The third day came and went without him realising - some of the sprouts had started to wither away, because the room was just so cold and there was no one looking after them. 

The fourth day Bilbo realised that he was truly sick, and that it was unlikely anyone could cure him. He realised that there was no need to cure him, because he was no longer required. Thorin would probably be settling into his kingly duties, and the princes were no doubt in the middle of their physical recuperations. 

_Maybe I should have returned to the Shire..._

He shivered at the thought. Mustering all the strength he had in him, Bilbo slipped off the bed and reached for Thorin's coat. After a moment of deliberation, where he swayed on his feet rather precariously, he reached for a little item that had seemingly fallen to the floor days before.

Thorin's coat still smelt like him, just faintly. Bilbo pulled it to his chest as he laid back down, his head at the foot of the bed because the pillows felt too soft, soft enough to bruise.

Absently, he rolled his fingers over the acorn he clutched.

He'd wanted to plant it in one of the little pots he'd stolen, but he knew it wouldn't grow.

With a choked breath pushed out of his lungs, he closed his eyes and loosened his grip on the acorn.

Soon it would be cold enough for him to sleep forever.

 

It was Gandalf who alerted Thorin's attention to the lack of Hobbit in Erebor's great halls.

"And where might Bilbo be?" The old wizard had asked. 

The question had stopped everyone from eating their meal. Thorin glanced around the table, copying the actions of his company, but there was not a single honey-coloured curl in sight.

"I haven't seen him in... a while." Fili frowns carefully. Kili nods in agreement.

"Wasn't there a chair there last week?" Bofur asks, his gaze turned towards the end of the table.

"There was." Balin agrees with a frown, standing.

Ori comes bustling into the room a moment later, looking frazzled. "Has anyone seen my journal? I can't find it."

Gandalf narrows his eyes contemplatively. "Is anyone else missing something of theirs?"

"Some of my candles are gone." Balin says. "I thought I misplaced them."

"I'm missing my axe." Dwalin grunts, frowning. "Though it is damaged; thought someone disposed of it."

"My bracelet is gone." Kili mutters.

"My beads, too." Fili adds.

Thorin frowns as he listened to all the complaints coming from the Company.

"And you, Thorin?" Gandalf asks.

"My coat." He murmurs. "And when I went to clean Orcrist, I could not find it."

Gandalf's frown deepens. "Is that so."

"Has Master Baggins burgled all our things?" Fili asks. 

"When did you last see the Hobbit?" Gandalf demands.

Everyone mutters, but no once can bring up an exact date. 

Gandalf stands. "Lead me to his room."

Thorin stands too. "What is the matter?"

"Hobbits are... sensitive to negative emotions." Gandalf says. "I fear Bilbo has become ill."

"How can you tell?" Oin demands.

"Because I know Bilbo, and I knew Hobbits. When they begin to fade, they try to bring themselves back - they surround themselves with things that mean something. More often than not, a friend or family member aids them through their illness."

"I don't understand." Bofur says.

"There is a reason Hobbits do not stray from their homes, my friends. This illness is one of them."

Thorin's heart starts to hammer. "How long till this illness takes hold?"

"A few days, at most, I'm afraid." Gandalf says. "As I mentioned, Hobbits are very sensitive. We must go find him, or else he will become lost to us, if it is not already too late."

"This way." Thorin says, swiftly leading Gandalf and the company from the dining hall. 

The thought of Bilbo being gone made his heart lurch. He'd tried to speak to the Hobbit when he woke, but something always preoccupied him - his duties to his people, his health, a certain Hobbit studiously avoiding him.

Bilbo's room was soon in sight. Thorin knocked first, but when he received no reply he pressed the door open.

Bilbo's room was full of things. Books, clothes, even Orcrist. Thorin couldn't help but gape at the sight of it all, as did the members of his company.

And there, lying still in the clutter of it all, was a little Hobbit.

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted, surprised, as he rushed towards Bilbo's bedside. The room was so _cold._ Bilbo didn't react to his name, and for a moment Thorin feared the worst. 

He reached out a hand, and touched his fingertips to Bilbo's cheek. It was colder than the stone that Erebor was built of. 

And then Thorin saw it - a small, familiar acorn sitting loosely in Bilbo's open palm. The Hobbit was resting on _his_ cloak, holding that acorn that meant to much to _them_ and Thorin had never felt so choked up. It was as though his heart had lodged itself in his throat, and he struggled to breath around it. 

"Is he breathing?" 

Thorin barely registered his nephew's watery voice, and the sound of Gandalf's tired hum.

He lowered his head, resting his ear an inch above Bilbo's parted lips.

"Barely." He breathed. "Just barely."

 _I'll fix you, I will._ Bilbo was like this because of him - he hadn't done enough, he could have done more. Bilbo didn't deserve to die, cold and alone, because not a single one of them had noticed his anguish over things they had no hope of understanding. Thorin had let this happen. 

_It's all my fault._


	2. Honeycomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo owns a honey store.  
> One day, a man and his small family stumble in.

When Bilbo inherited his last great-great (possibly another great) Uncle's homemade business, he certainly hadn't expected it to be made completely of _honey._

Honestly, it sounded better than it actually was. His Uncle had sold everything honey-related; honey lollies, honey-covered apples, honey-scented candles, actually honey... really, Bilbo was unsure as to where all the honey came from. He was fairly certain there was a honey farm close by, but he'd never actually gone looking for it. Nevertheless, the honey was delivered at the same time each month and Bilbo was forced to use it all before the next batch came, for fear of it all piling up on the front steps.

It wasn't that he was a bad cook, or that he didn't enjoy making things, he just hadn't expected it.

He grew to love it, of course. The locals adored the little store, with its honey-comb shaped walls and the egg-shaped chairs decorated like a hive to sit in while they ate. Everything was coloured warm shades of brown and yellow, with an odd dark stripe here and there. It was rather quaint, Bilbo thought.

Bilbo sighed to himself as he brushed his curls into something more presentable. He slid a black headband in to keep the strands out of his eyes (because hair and honey simply did not mix) and was a little frustrated that the small antennas didn't sit up evenly.

When he agreed to take on this shop, he hadn't realised it came with a uniform. Completely voluntarily, he was assured, but it was definitely required. He could almost hear his great-something-or-other Uncle's voice hissing at him to wear it, less forbid he becomes an unrespectable Baggins's.

The apron was cute, admittedly. Worn over normal clothes, it was coloured just like a pastel yellow honey bee, complete with a pair of transparent, glittery wings that sat perfectly in the middle of his back where the apron strings tied. 

A lot of people visited his little store. Bilbo liked to hear their stories; where they came from, where they were going, why. The Shire was kind of in the middle of nowhere, so it was nice to listen to the adventures of others.

It was somewhat of a slow day when two little kids came tumbling in, wide grins on their faces.

"Well hello there." Bilbo smiles down at them, gently placing down the sticky plates in his hands to be put in the dishwasher at the end of the day. "And what are you two doing here?"

"You have a honey store!" The darker haired child exclaims, running over to wrap his arms around Bilbo's legs. "It's so cool, Mister!"

"Why, thank you." Bilbo smiles, patting his hair. 

"I'm Fili." The lighter haired child said. "That's Kili."

"It's nice to meet you." Bilbo says, offering his hand. "I'm Bilbo."

"Bilbo the Bumble Bee!" Kili gasps, eyes glittering. 

Bilbo chuckled. "Just Bilbo."

The bell above the door tinkles as another person comes in. "Fili, Kili?"

"Uncle Thorin, over here." Kili calls, turning his head. "Come meet Mr Bumble Bee!"

Bilbo's eyes widen at the sight of the man that walks into little store. He's tall, with broad shoulders and long, dark hair messily held in a low ponytail. His eyes were so blue that Bilbo thought they may have been taken from the very sky itself.

"Welcome." He offers with a nervous smile, flushing. "Are these your nephews?"

Thorin rubs the back of his neck. "Yes, sorry about them. Look away for one second and they're gone. I hope they didn't cause you any trouble."

"No, no, no, it's quite alright." Bilbo grins. "I have a nephew just a bit younger - I'm used to having children around."

"Uncle, look, look!" Kili says. "He has _wings!"_

Thorin raises an eyebrow at the uniform, and shrugs a shoulder absently. "So he does."

Bilbo smiles bashfully, and shrugs as well. "Anything I can help you with?" He offers.

"Uncle, we can stay for a little, right?" Fili asks, eyes wide and lips pouty. Oh, how Bilbo knew that look well; it was one of Frodo's absolute favourites. 

As such, he's hardly surprised when Thorin caves in and nods, smiling faintly at Fili's wide, answering grin.

Bilbo leads them to a table and helps to lift Kili into the egg-shaped chair at the child's insistence. "They've got no allergies, right?" Bilbo asks as he hands the children colourful, bee-themed menus.

"No." Thorin answers.

Bilbo nods. "Alright. Some things have nuts and dairy, is all."

"What's this, Mr Bumble Bee?" Kili asks excitedly, pointing at something on the menu.

Bilbo flushes at the name, but doesn't correct him. He leans over Kili's chair to see what he's pointing at. He explains what Kili is pointing at, only to have him point at another item right after. Bilbo thought it was rather endearing, and didn't mind explaining more than half of the menu to the curious brothers.

"Kili, choose something." Thorin eventually coaxed. "Fili, do you know what you want?"

In the end, Bilbo brought them quite a range of things to try. Kili liked the honey-roasted peaches, as well as the honeyed pears wrapped in puff-pastry. Fili liked the honey crullers with a spoonful of peanut-butter and honey ice-cream on the side. 

Thorin just asked for Bilbo's favourite, which left him flustered as he carried a slice of apple and honey crumble with a side of pan-caramelized honey banana slices. 

"Do you make all of this yourself?" Fili asked as he carefully spooned food into his mouth. 

Bilbo nods. "Yes, though my nephew helps sometimes." He chuckled at the image of little Frodo carefully spooning honey out of a jar he held into a pan. It wasn't so much helping as it was assisting, but Bilbo was glad for the company nevertheless. 

"How do you do it all?" Kili asks, eyes wide.

Bilbo wipes a dab of honey off his cheek. "Well, I have to get up rather early every day." He chuckles.

"You have no employees?" Thorin asks, surprised.

Bilbo shakes his head. "I inherited this place from a family member." He explains. "He didn't work with anyone, so I guessed that I didn't need to either. It helped that I already knew how to bake." He laughs. 

Thorin smiled faintly. "That's some work ethic."

Bilbo grins. "I enjoy it."

"How do you get all the honey?" Kili asks.

"Well, the honey bees make it for me." Bilbo says, turning his eyes down to look at Kili. "Then a farmer brings me the honey, and I use it to make all the food on the menu."

"All of it?"

"All of it." Bilbo confirms.

Kili jerks his eyes to his uncle. "I wanna be a honey chef, Uncle!"

Thorin startles, and blinks at Kili. "Do you, now?"

"Mr Bumble Bee, can you teach me?" Kili turns back to look at him imploringly. 

"If your Uncle says its okay, I don't mind."

Kili turns those big eyes back on his Uncle.

Thorin sighs. "If it's really alright with you, Bilbo, then I don't mind."

Bilbo grins. "I don't mind, not at all!"

 

Kili wasn't the greatest cook, but Bilbo thought he was just too cute to refuse. Fili, on the other hand, was born for it - Bilbo was surprised at how easily he took to it.

Bilbo soon began spending every free day he had with the small family. He learned that Thorin looked after the boys for his sister, who lived very far away and was too busy to look after them properly (though she visited very frequently, he was told, so the boys never had a chance to miss her). Thorin had recently moved them to the Shire, because the neighbourhood was good and he only wanted the best for his boys.

Thorin visited Bilbo a lot, too, not just when he brought his nephews for their visit. He often popped in to say hello, and always left with a little treat from Bilbo to give to the boys, regardless of how much Thorin tried to politely refuse.

Fili and Kili soon met Frodo, and the trio was inseparable. Bilbo was glad Frodo had started coming out of his shell, and was even gladder when school started again and he and Kili were placed in the same class.

Fili was older, and as such was in a different grade, but Bilbo's heart had nearly burst when Fili had whispered to him that he looked out for them at school. That boy would grow up with a heart made of pure gold, Bilbo was sure.

"Are you sure they're not a bother?" Thorin asks, handing Bilbo an over-night bag. The children had already disappeared upstairs, where Bilbo had a reasonably sized house and several spare rooms, though they would likely stay in Frodo's.

"It's alright, Thorin." Bilbo reassured with a smile. "Would you like some tea?"

Thorin only nodded.

Bilbo had also learned that Thorin wasn't really a man of words. His stern exterior, however, kept hidden a much softer side that Bilbo positively adored. He knew he had a crush on Thorin, and berated himself for acting like a love sick teenager, but he just couldn't help himself.

He led Thorin upstairs, and placed the overnight bag on the couch as he made his way into the kitchen. "Honey or sugar?" Bilbo asks.

Thorin chuckles. "Honey."

Bilbo grins. "I'm glad you've developed a taste for it." He says as he sets the kettle to boil. After a few minutes, it finishes and Bilbo goes about making the tea. 

"I don't think there is a person out there who could possibly refuse your treats, Bilbo."

Bilbo blushes at the praise, and smiles. "Well, I surely hope not! I wouldn't have a business if people didn't like it." He laughs quietly. 

"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo calls as he toddles down the hallway, clutching a toy soldier in his hand with Fili and Kili both following after him. "What's for dinner?"

"Are you hungry, my dear?" Bilbo laughs, bending down to scoop Frodo up as he places himself against Bilbo's chest. 

"Mmm!" Frodo nods, grinning sheepishly. 

"Do you want chicken or fish?" He asks, though he makes sure to include Fili and Kili in the question.

"Chicken!" Frodo decides.

"Is that okay?"" Bilbo asks the brothers.

"Sure!" Fili grins as Kili nods in agreement. 

"Alright." Bilbo concedes. "Go play and I'll start cooking."

He watched silently as they disappear down the hallway, before turning back to Thorin. "Do they like pumpkin and potatoes?" 

Thorin nods.

"Alright, we'll have that for dinner then." Bilbo decides with a nod of his head. The antennas wiggle, catching Thorin's glance, and Bilbo flushes. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Thorin blinks at him owlishly. "I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"Oh no, it's quite alright!" Bilbo exclaims, a little rushed. 

Thorin grins a very charming grin. "If you insist."

Bilbo grins back. 

 

Bilbo liked spending time with Thorin. Dinner was pleasant - he got many compliments on his cooking, which made him rather proud. Kili seemed disappointed that Bilbo was no longer wearing his antennae and wings, though.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing." Bilbo chuckles, hiding his grin behind a hand as he hands a pile of DVD's to Fili and Frodo. 

"It's cute!" Kili argues, gripping Bilbo's arm tightly. "Right, Uncle Thorin?"

"Very." Thorin agrees with a nod, smirking slyly. "I think it's adorable."

Bilbo turned red right up to the tips of his ears. "U-uh, thank you."

"This one!" Frodo and Fili chorus as they finally find a movie to watch. 

Thorin takes it from them, seeing as Bilbo was preoccupied with a lap full of Kili, and pops it into the DVD player. Soon enough the movie steals away the attention of the children and Thorin is able to take a seat beside Bilbo when they all slip off the couch to lay on the floor together. 

"Thank you for having them." Thorin says quietly. "It's good for them to have friends, considering they just moved here. I was worried they wouldn't be able to adjust."

Bilbo smiles faintly. "It's quite alright. I'm happy they've drawn Frodo out of his shell. He's not so afraid of others anymore."

Thorin gives him that charming smile again, and casually slips his arm over Bilbo's shoulders.

Despite his embarrassment, Bilbo leans into Thorin's side, and is pleased when Thorin drops his arm to cup his hand over Bilbo's shoulder warmly. 

He was glad that Thorin and his little family had stumbled into his life that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will get to the other pairings soon enough~! I'm sticking with Thilbo for a few more days so I have time to re-watch the movies. That way, I'll get more of a feeling for the characters (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b


	3. Two Beating Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is disgruntled when a company of Dwarves loudly interrupt his quiet night.
> 
> None of them, least of all Thorin Oakenshield, could have guessed the true reason why.

There were _Dwarves._ A lot of them.

In his _house._

Kicking his mother's good china around as if the delicate pieces of porcelain were nothing more than a rubber ball!

Really, Bilbo didn't think his poor heart could take it. That meddling Gandalf had organized this all, he was sure, and what was that about an adventure-? Hobbits do not go on adventures, thank you very much!

"I really must insist- I really-" Bilbo raised his voice slightly, trying to talk over the noise of the Dwarves as they sung and cheered and shouted. 

He didn't understand how it had all come down to this. He'd finally settled down to have a nice, quiet dinner, because this day had been rather tumultuous and he was quite tired. And then a big (really big) Dwarf had suddenly appeared at his door and took a hold of his dinner before Bilbo could even begin spluttering questions.

Then another Dwarf had appeared. And another two.

And then the rest- and by that point, there were eleven Dwarves in his Hobbit hole, which was a ridiculous number of Dwarves to even begin with! And his mothers _china-_

Really, what was an anxious Hobbit to do?

Well, nothing of course, because Thorin Oakenshield then decided to appear.

A grocer! How indignant. Bilbo was no such thing, and meant to tell Thorin so, but then all the Dwarves were back in his living room talking about their adventure. As it were, Bilbo was not a burglar nor a grocer - just a Hobbit, he wanted to say. _I'm just a Hobbit._

Though he supposed that couldn't be true, either. He was part Took (unfortunately) and although his doilies and good china were important to him, he ached to go on an adventure. Maybe not with a company of Dwarves and a deranged wizard, but to leave the boundaries of the Shire and see the world and the Elves and the _ocean..._

Oh, how he ached for it.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot go on this adventure." Bilbo told Gandalf, who had to bend to hear him over the noise of the Dwarves. "I have responsibilities, Gandalf-"

"Responsibilities!" A Dwarf mocked, loud enough to grab the attention of the others. "Did you hear that lads? The Hobbit has _responsibilities!"_

Bilbo glared at the loud laughter that echoed through his hallways. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He could handle them mocking him, his home, his doilies, his lack of skill with a sword- but _this._ Was _wrong._

"Now I'll have you listen-" He starts, only to be drowned out by the noise. "I insist- you must be quiet!"

"Quiet? Dwarves are not quiet!"

"I insist!" Bilbo exclaimed loudly. "It's much too late for this-"

"Why, the moon has only just risen!"

"Well no, it rose hours ago-" Bilbo shook his head. "I must insist you quieten yourselves-!"

The Hobbit couldn't even hear himself think over this noise. They were being so disrespectful, in his own home! His mother would have had them by their rounded ears. 

"For goodness sake, please!" Bilbo cried over the noise. "You must be quiet, or else you'll wake the-"

His eyes widened as a muffled wail reached his twitching ears. It came from the furthest corner of his home - he had hoped the noise wouldn't reach that room - and it effectively silenced the Dwarves.

"Baby." Bilbo finishes breathily. 

"Baby?" Thorin stood sharply.

Bilbo spun on his heel and fled, uncaring of his rudeness. How _dare_ they!

The room at the back of his home was thankfully untouched by the Dwarves; in fact, Bilbo did not think they knew how to get here, because the corridors were rather like a maze. 

He pushed the door open and almost whimpered at Frodo's pained wails.

"Oh my dear Frodo." Bilbo breathed, rushing to the baby's crib side. He gently reached down and lifted Frodo, holding him tight against his chest. "Hush now, love. Everything's alright, see?"

Frodo's cheeks were red and splotchy, and Bilbo's heart lurched. Frodo had succumbed to a terrible fever the night before, and it had yet to break. He was up all night soothing the poor child. Frodo had only managed infrequent naps throughout the day, and he had finally _settled-_

Only to be woken by a rude company of Dwarves!

Unexpectedly, anger filled Bilbo. He didn't often get angry (frustrated, yes, but never angry) but he could not believe how they had treated him, and by extension he infant nephew. 

"You did not tell me you had a child."

Bilbo startled at the voice, lifting a protective hand to the back of Frodo's head as the child grizzled and whimpered, smearing tears and drool onto Bilbo's shoulder. "And why would I tell you such a thing, Dwarf?" He glares at Thorin, mildly offended. "Not that you even offered me a chance to speak this entire night!"

Thorin looked at him impassively. "The child is small."

Bilbo shields Frodo more from his view, heart hammering. "He is a Hobbit child." He says defensively.

"It's more than that though, isn't it?" Thorin crosses his arms.

Bilbo frowns, taking a step back. "He was born premature." He answers. "He is ill."

Thorin's eyes soften. "Ill?"

Bilbo's heart starts to slow. He absently rocks Frodo, trying to calm him. 

"Is he yours?" Thorin asks.

"My nephew."

"His parents?"

"That's a rather personal question to ask someone you dislike."

"I do not dislike you."

Bilbo stares. Thorin can't meet his gaze. "If you must know, his parents were killed. Just like mine." Bilbo whispers, shivering at the thought of the Fell Winter. He was still young when the wolves attacked, but their howls haunted his dreams. "No one else was willing to take him in."

Thorin grunts in understanding. "He had no home, then."

"He does now." Bilbo snaps. "And that is all that matters. And I will not be risking his security, period."

"What is he ill with?"

Bilbo frowns, turning his eyes down onto Frodo's tired face. He gently chucks the fauntling under the chin, and rubs his finger over those chubby cheeks. "I think he contracted an illness when he was brought to the Shire." Bilbo says. "His fever hasn't broken yet, as I thought it would. I do not think it is a Shire illness, so I haven't taken him out of Bag-End. I wouldn't want to get the other children in the Shire sick."

"May I see him?"

Bilbo startled again, instinctively holding Frodo tighter. 

Thorin does not back down from his question.

Something tells Bilbo that the intimidating Dwarf does not wish to harm his child, so he relaxes his arms and allows Frodo to be seen. 

Thorin strides closer to peer at Frodo, ignoring Bilbo's flinch. "It looks like an illness that dwarflings sometimes get." He says after a moment. "It isn't life threatening as long as it is treated."

Bilbo's eyes widen. "What do I give him?"

"There are flowers that grow on mountain sides that can be brewed into a syrup to treat it." Thorin says, looking contemplative. "I have none on me, but Oin might."

Bilbo looks at him imploringly. If it helped his little Frodo, then he'd even beg the Dwarves for their medicine.

"I'll ask." Thorin nods. "Wait here."

Bilbo watches as Thorin disappears back down the hallway, and lets out a deep breath. He takes a seat in the armchair he kept beside Frodo's crib, and gently cradled the baby on his chest again. Frodo's chubby fingers gripped his shirt loosely as those big, blue eyes looked up at him. 

Bilbo gently wiped a tear away, and pressed his lips to Frodo's forehead. "You with me, darling? You needn't look at me so melancholic, you'll be right as rain soon enough." He whispers. "I promise."

Bilbo's heart ached for the poor child, it really did. He knew what it was like to grow up with parents taken too early, but at least he'd had many years and memories spent with them. Frodo didn't have that - Bilbo would do anything to keep him happy, to make him know of his parents without ever having a real memory of them.

"Oin had some." Thorin murmurs as he enters the room again.

Bilbo hoped he hadn't been standing there watching, because even though he was not embarrassed of Frodo in the slightest, having the mighty Dwarf hear his sweet nothings to the child was rather blush-worthy.

"Here." Thorin gently twirled a spoonful of the syrupy liquid onto a small spoon and handed it to Bilbo. "Feed him this."

Bilbo wordlessly took the spoon and brought it to Frodo's lips. Frodo met his eyes; those baby blues looked so intelligent for his age, and after watching Bilbo's face for a moment his lips parted without a fuss and Bilbo was able to feed him the medicine. The Hobbit felt a little proud. 

Thorin looked impressed.

Frodo whined at the taste and shifted in Bilbo's arms, lifting a hand to suck on his fingers. Bilbo allowed it, and brought Frodo higher up on his shoulder.

"I must apologize for our behaviour." Thorin says. "Dwarven children are exceedingly rare, and as such we highly value the health and wellbeing of any child, be it Dwarf or otherwise. We would not have acted to rashly if we knew you had a child with you."

"You should not have acted so rashly regardless." Bilbo answers stubbornly. "Even people that look like grocer's have stories to their lives. You should not guess about the direction of the story without knowing the person first."

Thorin took the chiding silently. His eyes moved between watching Frodo and watching Bilbo. "Will you journey to Erebor?"

"I do not know." Bilbo answers. "I think the air would benefit Frodo, but a dragon..."

"May not even live still." Thorin answers. "And if it does, then you surely will not have to venture near it."

Bilbo nods. "I'll think about it. I think it's best if everyone slept for now."

Thorin nodded. "I agree. I must apologize again, for our behaviour."

Bilbo nodded too, but didn't accept the apology. If their medicine cured Frodo, then he would, but for now he remained silently brooding. 

"Goodnight, Burglar." Thorin bowed slightly, and as an afterthought, added, "Goodnight, Frodo."

The baby cooed sleepily at the sound of his name, making Thorin smile softly, but otherwise did not move in Bilbo's arms. The Dwarf left the room a moment later.

Bilbo let out a deep sigh, and rested further down in the chair as he watched Frodo start to drop off. "Goodnight, Thorin." He murmured quietly.


	4. I Am No Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo contemplates his relationship with an acorn, himself, and with Thorin.

Bilbo watched the city of Dale in the near distance, quiet and brooding. Absently, he fiddled with the acorn he had carried all the way from Beorn's house.

He'd made his decision to stay in Erebor. Of course, he would make seasonally visits to the Shire, to care for Bag-End and make sure that no Hobbit dared to sneak off with his fine silverware. He'd miss the Shire, but Erebor...

It had things he did not wish to leave behind.

Gandalf was right. He was no longer the same Hobbit he was before he came on this adventure.

Bilbo sighed, looking down at the acorn in his dirty hands. There weren't many places he could plant it in Erebor (because it was a dilemma he constantly wondered about) but he supposed he could plant it in a pot until it grew too large. 

"Burglar?"

Bilbo startled at the voice, lifting his eyes to meet Thorin's gaze. 

Thorin drifted over to take a seat beside Bilbo, and turned to watch the sun set behind Dale's silhouette. He had that look on his face that he always wore when they first met; so uncaring, so strong. He was always looking up, as Elves, Men and Wizards were taller than Dwarves, but he never made anyone feel as though they were staring down at him. That ability to made himself seem larger used to unsettle Bilbo. He made Bilbo think that there was a pain he would never be able to understand, which Bilbo supposed was true.

It was a feeling of homelessness, though the roughened edges of that look seemed dulled now. 

"What is on your mind?" Thorin asks, directing that melancholic gaze to Bilbo.

For a moment, Bilbo felt lost. He couldn't understand Thorin. 

"I suppose there is a lot, but nothing too." Bilbo says.

Thorin nods, silent. Tension seemed to drain from his shoulders as he relaxed on the bench beside Bilbo. His posture slouched, as if a weight had been lifted from him, and Bilbo watched wordlessly as he started to absently run his fingers over the hilt of the sword strapped to his belt. 

"I don't know what to do with it." Bilbo says.

Thorin looks at him inquisitively.

Bilbo offers up the acorn.

"Ah." Thorin nods in understanding. After a hesitant moment, he plucks the acorn from the palm of Bilbo's hands. "Did you not wish to plant it?"

Bilbo nods. "It'd seem like a waste not to use it, but I don't think I wish to place it somewhere... permanent." He confesses.

Thorin hums contemplatively, turning the acorn over in his hand. 

"You see, there are no gardens in Erebor." Bilbo continues. "So it would have to be grown on the mountain side, or just outside of Dale, and that's far to travel every day."

"And it might not survive the winters here, as it would at the skin shifter's." Thorin finishes. 

Bilbo nods. "That too."

"Why not carry it?" Thorin asks. "Or turn it into jewellery?"

A little thrill went through Bilbo at that, but it dissipated quickly. "Hobbits have no need for jewellery." He smiles ruefully. "I feel as though I've failed it."

Thorin chuckles, and reaches a hand to pat his thigh reassuringly. The uncharacteristic action seems almost natural in the dusk of night. "I do not think that is the case." He pauses for a moment. "May I keep it?"

Bilbo startles, because the question felt oddly intimate - like the acorn is an extension of himself, because he's had it for so long and thought about it so much. "If you wish." He answers, his heart hammering.

Thorin nods, and tucks the acorn into the pocket of his coat. "I shall see you later, then."

Bilbo watches Thorin as he stands and leaves, before slumping. He turns his gaze back to Dale, and prays for his lost, lonely feelings to disappear. 

 

Bilbo was in the library of Erebor when Thorin sought out his company again. It had taken the better part of the last three months to sort through the books that had been damaged beyond repair and the books that only needed a little attention. The actual cleaning and organizing of the library took the most time, even with Ori's help.

"Bilbo, may I have a word with you?"

The Hobbit did not think he would ever get used to hearing Thorin address him as "Bilbo". It still shocked him every time.

Wordlessly, Bilbo cleared away the books he had stacked on the spare chair and gestured for Thorin to sit. During the time Bilbo had spent in Erebor, their relationship had progressed into something more of a mutual comfort rather than a silent, contemplating friendship.

For a few moments Thorin simply watched him work, flittering through the pages of books that he catalogued and shifted to new piles, ready to be placed on their appointed shelves.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Bilbo asks eventually, taking a seat himself as his nose twitches from the dust. 

"There is something I wish to ask you." Thorin says. "But I fear you will be offended, or frightened, and I do not want to make you uncomfortable."

Bilbo hummed. "Just ask, I don't think I have the energy in me to feel offended."

Thorin looked at him for a moment, before turning his gaze to the bookshelves. "You are remaining in Erebor, aren't you?"

"I am." Bilbo confirmed. "Though I will be visiting the Shire when the seasons turn. I have to make sure no one runs off with my furniture." He chuckles.

Thorin nods.

"What is it that you want to ask?" Bilbo questions curiously. "That cannot have been it."

"No, that was not it." Thorin grimaces. "I wished to ask if you would consider- if you would consider letting me court you." He mumbles.

It takes a moment for the question to sink it, but when it does, Bilbo turns so red he fears he looks sunburnt. "P-pardon?"

Thorin looks at him stubbornly with that gaze of his, the one that makes Bilbo feel smaller than he actually is.

"But why?" He asks quietly.

"I have my reasons." Thorin murmurs, reaching into his coat to pull something out. "Here."

Bilbo takes the object with raised brows. It was a circlet; beautifully made from silver, he guessed, in the shape of intertwined vines and oak leaves. Right in the section, cradled by the silver oak leaves and curling vines, is his acorn. 

"Is this for me?" Bilbo asks, wide-eyed.

"If you want it." Thorin answers.

Bilbo knew it was more than that. He didn't know much on Dwarven courting, but he knew this was a gift of betrothal - something that said a courtship between them was something to be taken seriously, with much consideration. Bilbo knew that Thorin was asking a lot, and it must have taken him so much courage to do so. 

He thought about it. In his mind, he carefully weighed the pros and cons, and tried to figure out exactly what he wanted from Thorin. He knew it was not his wealth or his gold or his status as royalty - he wanted a connection, something that linked him to another person that went deeper then genetics or law or friendship.

He wondered if Thorin could give him that, but how would he know without giving Thorin a chance to prove himself?

Finally, he turned his gaze back up. Thorin looked dreadfully uncomfortable. His expression made Bilbo want to laugh, but instead he smiled softly. 

"I would like it." He answers. "If you are sure you wish to give it to me."

The look of relief on Thorin's face is comical. "It is yours." He says swiftly.

Bilbo offers it and bows his head with another small smile.

Thorin takes it and lifts the circlet to settle it in his curls. It made Bilbo feel important, and warmed his heart. Thorin had put a lot of thought and effort into this, he realised, and it certainly made him feel appreciated. 

"I wonder how your nephews will react." Bilbo says cheekily, grinning as he lifts his head again.

Thorin groans, though his lips quirk up into a small smile. He quite obviously enjoyed the sight of Bilbo wearing his circlet. "I dread to think of their reactions. How they will ever rule worries me."

Bilbo laughs. 

Thorin smiles to himself at the sound of it. He reaches for Bilbo's hand, and holds it gently. "Thank you, Burglar."

Bilbo coveres Thorin's hand with his own. "I am no burglar, I'm afraid. You'll have to settle with just a Hobbit."

"Just a Hobbit is all I want."


	5. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is overworked.
> 
> Bilbo attempts to correct that.

"Thorin, your hair is a mess."

"That is what happens when you spend all day training, Burglar."

Bilbo frowned at the Dwarf.

The Dwarf frowned back at him.

"Let me fix it." Bilbo says. 

Thorin's frown deepens. He was unbearably stubborn, which often left Bilbo huffing and glowering and crossing his arms until Thorin caved in or Bilbo got out-frustrated.

But this time, Bilbo was determined not to give in. Thorin's hair looked as though it hadn't been brushed or combed in weeks, let alone just a single day. The respectable part of Bilbo, whatever of that was remaining, just ached to fix it. Thorin's royal braids weren't even straight, and he did those every day! 

Bilbo stays silent with his cheeks puffed out in determination until Thorin began to cave.

"Braiding is very important to Dwarves-" Thorin begins.

"I know." Bilbo cuts him off. "I read about it. And I asked Ori."

Thorin stares at him for a moment, silent and contemplative, before sagging in defeat. "If you are sure."

"I am." Bilbo replies, satisfied. 

Thorin nods, and turns. "This way then."

Bilbo follows in a companionable silence. Ever since he'd decided to remain in Erebor, his relationship with Thorin had been somewhat avoided. He felt like it should have progressed by now, because he wasn't getting any younger and he had finally become impatient. He knew that certain braids and caring for a Dwarf's hair for them was an intimate gesture, and as such he knew exactly what he was asking when he offered to clean Thorin's hair.

Honestly, he was surprised that Thorin accepted. There were many other courting options for a King of the great Erebor, especially one that had had a hand in defeating a dragon, among various other feats. And what was Bilbo? A slightly unordinary Hobbit.

Ah well, what was he to do about it? Thorin had accepted, so there must have been something in him Thorin was attracted to. He tried not to dwell on his shock for too long.

Bilbo was led to Thorin's room. It was exceedingly large, with a bed as big as Bilbo's entire room, completely befitting of a king.

"The bathroom is through here." Thorin says, leading Bilbo into a large bathroom with a claw-footed tub that made Bilbo's skin tingle in excitement. Everything looked so extravagant, it was a beauty like nothing he'd ever seen before. "Will you fill the bathtub?"

Bilbo nods, and sets about doing what Thorin requested. He was able to keep his heart in check as he heard the rustling of clothing as it fell from Thorin's body in periodic layers. It wasn't so much the thought of Thorin's naked body that made him nervous (which it kind of did nevertheless, because Thorin was extremely attractive) but it was more so the thought of Thorin being voluntarily vulnerable in his presence. 

Bilbo turns off the taps when he believes the water to be at a suitable level and temperature, and patiently waits at the head of the bath for Thorin to get in. He did a moment later, and Bilbo politely averts his eyes until Thorin was settled shoulder deep in the water.

"Is the temperature alright?" He asks, handing over a bar of soap.

Thorin began to clean the grime off his skin, hardly hiding a grimace. "Yes, it's fine."

Bilbo nods. "How did training go?" 

Thorin smiles faintly as Bilbo filled a nearby jug and began to wet his hair with tentative fingers. "Kili is gaining his strength back marvellously."

"That's good." Bilbo replies, unwinding the tangled braids in Thorin's hair once he deemed it wet enough. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as Bilbo reaches for a bottle of shampoo already placed out ready to be used. Thorin tilts his head back and shut his eyes as Bilbo ran his soapy hands through those long, dark strands, rubbing in the shampoo as best as he could.

"You should take care of yourself more." Bilbo says quietly. "You push yourself so hard."

"It is my duty." Thorin answers.

Bilbo hums. "A weak, tired king can no longer perform his duty adequately."

Thorin smiles a little. "You may be right."

"Of course I am." He says teasingly as he begins to wash away the soap. "Has anybody ever taken care of you like this?"

"My mother, when I was very little." Thorin answers. "Otherwise, no."

"Everybody deserves to be pampered once in a while." Bilbo says, his fingers deftly working out the tangles in Thorin's hair. 

"And will you be pampering me, Master Hobbit?" Thorin opens his eyes to stare up at Bilbo.

"If you'll allow me."

Thorin nods, his expression relaxing. "I'm glad. Thank you."

"It is no trouble." Bilbo says, briefly allowing his fingertips to trace down Thorin's temples and the curves of his ears. "Out you get, before the water turns cold. I'll go find a brush."

Thorin nods, and moves to do as Bilbo says as the Hobbit heads back into the bedroom. 

Bilbo places a hand over his chest, flushing. Thorin had a beautiful body, much better than he had ever imagined. Again, he couldn't believe that Thorin had allowed him to be this close, that their relationship had turned into something as great and wonderful as this.

Thorin wanders into the bedroom a few moments later, after Bilbo had calmed himself down and found a hairbrush. Thorin was dressed in lighter sleepwear now, and looked as though he would fall asleep any moment. Bilbo thought it was heart warming. 

After the Dwarf had seated himself on the floor in front of Bilbo, he raised the brush and gently pulled it through Thorin's wet hair. He didn't know how long he spent untangling the knots and smoothing out the waves that seemed to double in volume as his hair dried. 

"Now I'm not very good at braiding..." Bilbo warns as he places down the brush and gently separates a section of Thorin's hair.

Thorin hums dismissively. 

Bilbo chuckles, and gently wove Thorin's hair into loose braids. He supposed it didn't have to be anything fancy, considering it would likely get tangled during sleep, but he still wanted to take pride in his work.

Thorin's hair was surprisingly... soft. He expected it to be coarser, considering it's thickness, but it was lustrous and wonderful to the touch. He was almost disappointed when he realised he was finished.

"Thorin? I'm done now." Bilbo says quietly, smoothing Thorin's hair back from his face. 

Thorin didn't reply, and at his silence Bilbo leans forward to peer into his face. He let out a soft sigh and stood, gently prompting the Dwarf in the shoulder.

"Time to sleep, now." He says quietly. "On the bed you go."

Thorin startles into a state of half-consciousness, and mumbles something in Khuzdul that Bilbo couldn't make out. Nevertheless, he climbs to his feet and slowly crawls into the bed, looking thoroughly exhausted.

Bilbo pulls the covers up and over him, feeling content. He was almost about to leave when Thorin opens an eye, frowning grumpily. He paws at the bed until his grip found Bilbo's wrist and pulls him forwards, ignoring Bilbo's shocked squeak.

"Thorin-"

"Stay here tonight." Thorin grumbles, dragging Bilbo closer with a surprising amount of strength until Bilbo was nestled against him. "Please, Bilbo."

Bilbo caves in rather quickly at that, relaxing until he was able to wiggle an arm free to pull the covers over himself as well as Thorin. He couldn't say no when Thorin spoke like that. "Goodnight, Thorin."

"'Night, Burglar." Thorin mumbles, more into the pillow than to Bilbo.

For a few moments, Bilbo watches Thorin drift off into sleep. He really needed someone to look after him, Bilbo realised, or else he'd work himself to death. 

Only after Bilbo was sure Thorin was asleep did he allow himself to close his eyes as well.


	6. The Life Of A Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds two puppies in Dale, and starts to cry.

Bilbo didn't like war. He didn't like injury, or death. The Battle of the Five Armies left him somewhat traumatized, but it was a condition he was handling adequately. 

Still, sometimes there was nothing he could do when the fragility of life overwhelmed him. Really, it should have been expected. He should have been more careful, and controlled his emotions better. He just... hadn't expected it.

Several Dwarves from the company, including the King himself, had travelled down into the repaired sections of Dale to speak with Bard in order to set up trade agreements, as well as to ensure the rebuilding of Laketown had continued as planned.

He'd seen them in Laketown when they first arrived, when he and the company had been hidden in barrels full of fish, all those months ago. It seemed like it was just a distant memory to Bilbo, but he could remember so much of it so clearly. 

There were a lot of dogs in Laketown. Little, wrinkly things with big eyes and snuffling noses and tiny, curled tails. They were positively adorable, Bilbo thought, much different to any dog he had seen wander through the Shire.

As such, it was no wonder that he wandered off after a pair of them he'd spotted in Dale. The Dwarves hardly noticed when he slipped away, and he didn't worry about getting lost. He'd travelled into Dale several times over the last few months, and knew his way around quite well. 

The dogs didn't seem bothered by his presence - in fact, when he found their little nest and sat close to it, they came to sniff and snuffle into his hands. 

"Hello there." Bilbo smiled faintly at the dogs, scratching under their ears. "Where are your parents? You can't be older than a year, surely."

The dogs were clambering into his lap then, seemingly appeased that he was truly not a threat. The tumbled over one another, growling and nipping, but Bilbo thought it was just a playful thing they did. He slouched against the wall behind him, and turned his eyes to survey their little area.

That was when he saw it. A bigger dog, probably the mother of the two puppies, lying still in the corner. 

Truly, it wasn't as though he hadn't seen a dead creature before. But it just felt so raw - this poor dog, trying to care for her only puppies by herself, was lying dead because she hadn't gotten enough to eat or she hadn't been able to keep herself warm or she had been injured during the battle.

Her life had been snuffed out, quietly, like blowing out a flame at night with no thought, and no one had even _noticed._

It was ridiculous, but he was crying. 

Angrily, he scrubbed at his eyes. 

The dogs had contented themselves with sitting in his lap, so he absently pet their backs until a light snoring built up. It didn't make him feel any better, and he still cried. These poor things had no one to care for them!

"Bilbo?"

He jumped at the sound of his name being called, startling the dogs. One of them growled, but promptly fell back asleep. 

Thorin was looking at him curiously, his eyes lingering on the dogs. "Are you alright?"

Bilbo frowned, wiping at his eyes. "These dogs, they don't have a mother, or a home."

Thorin moved to carefully take a seat beside him. He gently rubbed the closest dog under the chin. "Would you like to take them back to Erebor?"

Bilbo looked up at him hopefully. "Can I...?"

Thorin dipped to press his forehead against Bilbo's. It was a comforting gesture, one that Bilbo willingly returned. "If you wish to bring the dogs with you," Thorin says, "Then I doubt anybody would complain."

Bilbo smiled faintly, and held the dogs closer.

Thorin gently rubbed his face clean of tears, and helped pull him to his feet. "Try not to wander off without telling me, alright? I was worried."

"Sorry." Bilbo answers sheepishly. "I was following these two..."

Thorin slips a protective arm around his back and begins to lead him back through the town. "It's alright if you wish to do other things while my meetings take place. I know they are dreadfully boring, and rather unnecessary to you. Just tell me first."

Bilbo nodded, and allowed himself to be led back to the group with Thorin. The company, now grouped together, were waiting back at the far entrance of Dale, where they would leave to travel back to Erebor. 

No one questioned where he had wandered off to, but Kili bounded up to him right away.

"Mister Bilbo, there you are!" He cried, exasperated. "Are you alright? You look a little red."

Thorin grips Kili's shoulder reassuringly. "Kili, Bilbo is alright."

Kili nods without anymore trouble, completely trusting in his Uncle, and Bilbo is once again astounded by their bond. It was nothing compared to the bond between Fili and Kili, but it came close. It never ceased to amaze him.

"What's with the dogs?" Kili asks, eyes widening as he bends to stand eye-level with the squirming puppies. 

"We're taking them back to Erebor." Thorin says, and Bilbo nods his approval. 

Kili's eyes widened even further. "Really? Can I hold one, Mister Bilbo?"

Bilbo had discovered that he was quite susceptible to Kili's big, brown eyes, especially when they were staring at him so imploring. With a small smile, he nodded, and Kili quickly scooped up one of the dogs. 

"He's so cute!" Kili grinned, smiling wide as the puppy squirmed in his hands and licked the air in front of his face, aching for contact. Kili seemed hardly bothered by the saliva it left on his face, though Bilbo knew he would dutifully scrub it off later. "Can I keep him?"

Bilbo blinked, and glanced up at Thorin. A sudden idea hit him, and he was relieved when Thorin seemed to be thinking the same.

"Of course you can." Bilbo turned back to Kili, who looked happy enough to burst. He lifted the dog in his arms. "Fili can have this one."

Kili grinned. "Mine's going to be so much better."

"Now, now, it's not a competition." Bilbo chuckled. "Make sure you take care of them, okay?"

Kili nodded seriously. "I will, I promise!"

Bilbo believed him. Despite his naivety, Kili could be very proper if he wished to be. 

Thorin squeezed his waist reassuringly, his hand large and warm on Bilbo's skin. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Bilbo's hair, making sure Bilbo felt his strength and knew that Thorin would remain a pillar for him to be able to rely on.

Bilbo was grateful, and showed it by leaning into him.

Death was inevitable, and it was crushing. It was a weight that had plagued his life in enormous amounts due to the hardships he'd experienced, but there was nothing to do except to allow those wounds to heal slowly.

But having a pillar, having Thorin, helped. 

He knew those puppies would be okay, because once he'd been as lost as them, but he wasn't any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the subpar updates, I've been super stressed lately ^____T
> 
> Just a quick question - thoughts on polyamory? Or just relationships in general with more than two people~  
> I'm about three-quarters of the way through the second movie, so I've got more of a feel for the characters and should be able to start writing different pairings soon ^^


	7. Thorin's Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is unpleasantly cold at night.
> 
> Someone seeks to fix that.

Travelling was not something Bilbo enjoyed. He was mildly allergic to pony hair and as such could not stop sneezing, and it was tedious to unroll his bedroll and then have to pack it all up after sleeping for what only felt like an hour. 

The worst of it all, though, was the cold.

It wasn't as though he disliked seeing new places; that part of this whole adventure lifted his spirit like nothing else - but getting there was so stressful that he could hardly sleep, and was therefore awake during the coldest parts of the night. 

The first few nights were the worst. A few weeks into the journey, and he had thought he had gotten used to his shivering, only to have Fili press up against him during his sleep, which kept Bilbo warm and sated for most of the night. After that, he was back to the painful shivering - it was ridiculous, really.

Out of all the Dwarves to first notice, Bilbo was rather embarrassed that it was Thorin. 

He'd been half-conscious with lack of sleep when Thorin had ambled over and draped his thick, fur-lined coat over Bilbo's shivering form. Bilbo hadn't really realised it had happened, but the heavy warmth of the coat left over from Thorin's skin and the thick, heady scent of Thorin himself had lulled him into sleep so fast it was like he'd never been struggling.

Of course, he woke up without the coat draped over him and was convinced it was all a dream.

Until it happened again, the next night. 

This time, Bilbo was more awake; he felt that the action was very heart-warming, and his opinion of Thorin had begun to change. With his eyes more open, he began to notice the little things Thorin did for him, almost as if the Dwarf weren't even thinking about his actions. 

Aside from offering his coat, he regularly groomed Bilbo's pony and gave him a relatively good portion of food and although he spurned Bilbo's presence his voice held no poison or bite as it once had.

Bilbo thought that maybe Thorin just didn't know how to express his emotions towards Bilbo. After all, Bilbo was not a Dwarf, and as such Dwarven actions of affection or companionship must have been much different to a Hobbit's. It wasn't as though Thorin could butt heads with him, like Dwalin did with Balin, or clap him over the shoulder like Bilbo had seen Thorin do with his sister-sons. Why, he'd knock Bilbo right off his feet!

In return, it was not as though Bilbo could offer Thorin anything he could a Hobbit he fancied. He did not think that Thorin would appreciate a tea grown and brewed from his own garden, or a crown of meaningful flowers, or even a soft embrace of hands. 

He'd never felt such a barrier between them before.

For a while it puzzled him, and he continued to brew in silence as he huddled under Thorin's cloak at night. 

Eventually, he decided just to... well, make a move, he supposed.

So he waited at night, shivering in his bedroll as usual as he feigned sleep until Thorin crept closer and gently lowered his cloak over Bilbo. The warmth of it instantly overwhelmed him, as it always did. He was sorely tempted to simply fall asleep, comforted by the cloak, but he shook himself awake.

He waited a few more moments, and only when he knew Thorin had returned to his watch post a little ways away from their camp did he pull himself to his feet and make his way over.

"Are you not cold?" Bilbo asks quietly.

Thorin startles, having not expected him, and turns to glare. Bilbo holds the cloak tighter around his shoulders, clearly unwilling to hand it back over, and that seems to settle Thorin to the point where he turns his gaze fixedly away from the Hobbit. "Not particularly." He answers stonily. 

Bilbo settled down beside him, unperturbed, and leaned across the distance so that the edges of the cloak cushioned Thorin's arm. "I suppose Dwarves aren't affected by the cold as much."

"Not as much as Hobbits, it seems."

Bilbo laughs quietly, oddly comfortable. "We are children of the spring." He says fondly. "Flowers bloom, crops are grown, children are born... really, spring brings a lovely rebirth after those dreadful winters."

Thorin seemed amused, and Bilbo took it as a personal victory. "Should you not be sleeping, Master Burglar?"

Bilbo hummed. "Most likely. I'm still unused to sleeping on hard surfaces, but I wanted to thank you for helping me. I thought it best to do it when no one else was likely to eavesdrop."

Thorin glanced at him.

Bilbo smiled back reassuringly. 

"You noticed, then." Thorin murmurs dryly.

"Well, at first I thought I imagined it." Bilbo confesses. "But warmth is something I am fine-tuned to." As if to prove his point, Bilbo buries down further into the coat, not-so-subtly breathing in a deep breath.

Thorin smiles faintly, though he tries to hide it with a frown that Bilbo sees straight through. "You are not offended, then?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, no, no, not at all. Flattered, really. Grateful that you're helping me. I feel as though I would have frozen to death by now if not for your coat."

Thorin looked faintly pleased, and nodded as he turned his eyes back out over the wilderness. "You should get some rest."

"I'll wait for your shift to end." Bilbo says, stretching his legs out comfortably. He doesn't offer a reason why, and thankfully Thorin does not ask him for one, instead simply accepting the statement for what it was.

Of course, Bilbo fell asleep rather quickly, comforted by Thorin's steady presence and the warmth from his cloak. 

He didn't know it, but Thorin was rather pleased when Bilbo's head dropped onto his shoulder, so much so that he hardly made a fuss as he carried the Hobbit back to his bedroll before returning to continue his shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 11:54pm... just in time ^_____T


	8. The Way The Sky Bends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If someone asked, he could tell them exactly what the sky looked before it bent and broke under the weight of whatever was calling from above it.

Bilbo had watched the sky fall, once before.

He was little, but he remembered. It was cold, and then it snowed. Little white balls fell from the sky like nothing he'd ever seen before, and it frightened his parents so much that they'd gripped each others hands tight enough to turn their knuckles pale. He'd stood next to them as they watched the snow fall, from the doorway of their home, as many other Hobbits had done.

Wolves had howled in the distance.

Of course, the sky hadn't fallen since then. Bilbo would have no one to stand beside if it did (and maybe that's why it did not fall again), because his parents had been taken away during the Fell Winter, as Hobbits now called it. 

He didn't think they deserved to have their lives snuffed out like that. They were so in love, and although they wished for more children they had made time to raise him until he was at the age where he knew they loved him unconditionally. Bad-End had been built in mind of many children, after all, but no more children it ever would receive.

When the sky next fell, Bilbo was seated atop a frozen place called Ravenhill.

Thorin's hand was still warm in his, and oh how tightly Bilbo gripped it. He dreamt of the things they'd do together, how Thorin would be so content back in his home, the place he had worked all his life for. Thorin deserved to be home, to have his kin standing beside him, after all that he'd done for the Dwarven race, after all the grief he endured.

But no more could that happen, because Thorin's life had been blown out just as swiftly as his parent's had.

Bilbo hadn't expected it. He'd truly thought Thorin would get all the great things he deserved, that he and his kin and the company would all find happiness and wealth in the future they would spend settled deep within their reclaimed Erebor. 

But the sky was falling, and Bilbo's heart was breaking.

He didn't think he'd cried so hard in years, not since the death of his parents. But full-bodied, finger-numbing sobs ripped through his chest and echoed over Ravenhill like the dying cries of a bird. 

And birds they were. Many heard his sorrow, tainted by the cries of the eagles as they swooped down from the sky. But not even the eagles could save Thorin, despite how much Bilbo desperately pleaded for Thorin to believe they would. And Thorin knew - he smiled, looking peaceful and content and _sane_ as he told Bilbo to return to his _(empty, cold, childless)_ home, to read his books and plant his acorn.

 _"How can I?"_ Bilbo screamed. _"How can I anymore?"_

He'd said he'd remember the good and the bad as he watched it grow, but this isn't what he meant. He would have remembered the trolls, and how allergic he was to pony hair, and the thunder battles and the way they huddled in fish-filled barrels and the creature that haunted the Goblin tunnels. He'd remember the song that Thorin first sung in his home, and the first time he laid eyes on Rivendell, and the way it felt to soar through the air on the back of an eagle and the way the Dwarves joked and jostled with each other like no consenting, adult Hobbit would. 

But now all that Bilbo could see was the way the Elves had looked at Thorin, strong, brave, handsome Thorin as if he were a mistake somebody had tried to erase, only they'd failed. All he could feel was the mind-numbing cold of Ravenhill that felt too hot compared to the cold of Thorin's hand that was left limp in the wake of stagnant blood no longer being circulated. All he could feel was the crushing feeling of knowing no one would ever love him, not like Thorin did, not like Thorin had. 

If someone asked, he could tell them exactly what the sky looked before it bent and broke under the weight of whatever was calling from above it.


	9. Like A Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori didn't think Thorin's scary appearance was helped at all by his equally-scary best friend, Dwalin. Now he was a sight to behold - tall, wide-shouldered, strong-willed. Scary as they came, not that Ori was deterred.

Ori frowned a little as he watched his roommate bustle around as if the bottom of his pyjama pants had caught on fire. 

"Bilbo, calm down." He says. "It's not like he hates you."

Bilbo frowned, his curls bouncing as he flops down onto the armchair across from Ori with a little whine. "But he does, Ori! He can't even stand looking at me." 

Ori sighed, and placed down his knitting. Others would laugh at his geeky hobby, but he just loved the simplicity of it. Knitting was very therapeutic after a long day; it calmed his nerves right down. "Thorin doesn't hate you." He repeats. "He just has trouble showing his affections, is all."

Bilbo gave him a heart-achingly hopeful look. "You think?"

Ori nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! If he really didn't like you, you'd definitely know it. He's definitely into you, I'm sure."

Bilbo flushes, and sets his lips in a determined, if somewhat flustered line. "Right, well. Thank you, Ori."

Ori grins proudly. "Not a problem, my friend!"

"Want some tea?" Bilbo asked as he stood, stretching his arms above his head, enough to expose a small strip of skin as his pyjama shirt rose up. 

"Yes, please." Ori settled back into the couch as he picked up his knitting.

Sometimes he wondered what (or who) had made Bilbo so self-conscious. He was a lovely person, once you got past his nervous exterior. His body was pretty cute, too, with chub in all the right places and squishy cheeks that often filled with red. Anyone could appreciate him, Ori thought, if they bothered to get past their shallow expectations.

Of course, knowing Thorin, Ori was certain that he had fallen for Bilbo upon first seeing him. Thorin had a way with people that often left them turned off, and his rather stern expression left people wary of approaching him. It was much the same for Bilbo, but Bilbo hadn't backed off - he had approached Thorin nevertheless, and even though it was for classwork, he hadn't shied away when Thorin's rather piercing gaze had struck him.

Ori didn't think Thorin's scary appearance was helped at all by his equally-scary best friend, Dwalin. Now he was a sight to behold - tall, wide-shouldered, strong-willed. Scary as they came, not that Ori was deterred.

He thought his little crush on Dwalin was embarrassing, or tiresome, which was why he never approached Dwalin. 

"Here." Bilbo wandered back over and handed him his cup. "We'll have this, then go down to the laundry. I've run out of clean socks."

Ori nodded, and took the cup into his grip. "Not that you wear them often." He said teasingly.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, and accusingly wiggled his bare toes. "I'll have you know I like walking around barefooted, thank you very much." 

Ori laughed, and took a sip of his tea.

Conversation had always moved easily with Bilbo. He was one of those rare people in this world that Ori got along with splendidly. He was admittedly a shy person, and many people thought him too childish or naïve to bother with.

But not Bilbo, never Bilbo. The short man was once of his dearest friends. 

A few minutes later and both roommates were finished their tea. Bilbo rinsed the cups (to prevent tea staining) before grabbing their basket of dirty clothes. Ori picked up his knitting and was thoughtful enough to grab Bilbo's current book before he followed him out of their dorm and down towards the laundry.

At this time of night most people were out doing other things, or sleeping, or furiously studying for tomorrow's exams. Ori and Bilbo never did any that, because they kept a regulated schedule and studied in advance, rather than the night before, so they were often the only ones in the laundry rooms when they ventured down there. 

"Would you mind opening the door?" Bilbo asked, standing to the side.

Ori stepped past him and held open the door. Like he expected, the room was empty, so he took a seat on one of the machines and began his knitting again.

He wasn't that handy with the machines, so Bilbo always kindly offered to do them for him. In return, Ori folded the clothes into their respective piles - it was a give and take scheme that they both benefited from.

Bilbo took a seat beside him as the washing machine rumbled to life, and picked up his book.

They hadn't been sitting for more than five minutes before a loud, rushed argument reached their ears. 

"I'm telling you, it was just plain odd, Thorin!"

"You can't expect me to believe your brother did that. He's always been so polite!"

"Around you, maybe." 

Bilbo jumped at the sound of Thorin's voice, his book snapping shut. For a moment, Bilbo's sudden rush of panic almost overwhelmed Ori, but he shook the feelings off.

"Don't worry, Bilbo-"

"We're in our pyjamas!" He hisses. "And I'm not wearing shoes."

Ori groaned, and was about to reply when the door burst open.

"Oh, good evening Ori." Thorin stopped arguing at the sight of Ori. His eyes quickly slipped from Ori to the smaller person huddling behind him, and a teasing grin curled at his lips. _"Bilbo."_

Bilbo squeaked, but quickly (and not so subtly) hid it with a strong cough. "Ah, good evening. Thorin." He nods to himself, satisfied, and Ori almost laughs out loud at the sight of him.

Dwalin elbows Thorin in the side hard enough to make him stumble. The resulting glare is rather priceless, but Ori can't help but think Dwalin's returning grin is the most handsomest he'd ever seen. 

"Bilbo, could you show me how to use the machines?" Thorin asks suddenly, gesturing to the hamper they'd dragged in behind them. "This oaf refuses to."

Bilbo laughs softly at Thorin's sour expression, but nods when Ori gives him a hidden thumbs-up. "Alright."

Thorin grins. "Wonderful." He declares, swooping closer to lift Bilbo off the machine and onto his feet, even though Bilbo could have very well done it himself.

Nevertheless, Bilbo flushes right up to the tips of his ears, and Ori is once again astounded by his rather innocent nature. Bilbo squirms when his shirt lifts up again, and flushes darker when Thorin quite obviously stares with heightened interest.

Dwalin ambles over as he watches his friend lead Bilbo to the far end of the laundry. "Befuddled idiots, the both of them." He says fondly. 

Ori nods, pushing his toes together nervously. He suddenly felt embarrassed - he was in his pyjamas, after all, and those said pyjamas were patterned with cutesy stars and moons. 

Dwalin, however, seemed to take no notice as he observed Ori's reddened face. "I apologize if Thorin has made your little roommate uncomfortable." He says.

"Oh, no, it's quite the opposite!" Ori grins nervously. "Bilbo just a little anxious sometimes, that's all. Thorin's not exactly the most friendly-looking."

Dwalin snorts. "Got that right, laddie." His eyes move down to Ori's knitting. "Whatcha' making?"

Ori nervously shows his current project. "Just another scarf." He says. "You can never have enough scarves, not with winter coming up."

Dwalin nods, and does not seem put off - Ori takes that as a personal achievement. "I agree. Looks good, so far."

Ori beams, pleased. "Thanks! I can make you one- I mean, if you want- I know they're kind of weird..." He mumbles.

Dwalin gives him a charming smile. "I would love ta' have one, if you're offering."

Ori smiles shyly, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Dwalin wasn't so intimidating, after all. 

A startled squeak makes his eyes turn back to his roommate, of whom was currently so red he looked feverish, trapped against Thorin by a strong arm settled around his waist.

"I don't think Thorin coulda' set his eyes on anyone more skittish." Dwalin shakes his head with a snort. "Like a rabbit, your roommate."

Ori giggles. "Bunny Bilbo." He said, before grinning again. "His nose twitches sometimes, just like a rabbit's!"

Dwalin smiles faintly, resting against the machine. "I hope he doesn't scare off Bilbo. I haven't seem him so enamoured with someone before, I think it'd do him a world of good to have someone to look after him."

Ori found himself nodding in agreement. "Bilbo could do with the same, not that he doesn't fair well by himself-"

"I understand." Dwalin says, patting Ori's hand with his own, large, calloused one.

Ori smiles faintly, flushing at the touch. 

Yes, he was sure that Thorin and Bilbo would get along very well, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially run out of ideas ༼ : ౦ ‸ ౦ : ༽
> 
> If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them here, or at my [tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) (anonymously or not, I don't mind ^^)
> 
> I'm trying to explore other pairings, but I'm finding it difficult ^^" I'll get to a few, hopefully, before the end of this month~!


	10. To See A Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes people don't understand that children need encouragement and support, even if the things they wished for weren't "for boys".

Bilbo worked in a clothing store - well, it was less of a clothing store and more of a costume store. There was a wonderful range of clothing in a varying range of sizes; things for babies and things for the elders and everyone in between. Bilbo, proudly, made quite a few of the custom clothing designs, and often did such specialised orders.

As such, it was not strange to see all sorts of people coming in. Bilbo had a philosophy never to judge people for what they wore, or wanted to wear, because he knew what it was like to be embarrassed about something you enjoyed, and it was a really toxic feeling. 

When people came in who were embarrassed, or uncertain, he tried his hardest to make them comfortable and happy. It wasn't just because it was a part of his job; he did it because excitement was contagious and there was nothing better than seeing someone happy because they finally felt _right._

Even when that person was a child.

"Honey, you should look at the boy clothes."

Bilbo looked up at that, frowning. A woman who had recently started working at the store was talking to a little boy, who couldn't have been more than seven years old, that was in the store with an older man and a younger toddler. 

"But... but I want to be a princess." The boy mumbled, eyes teary, as he glanced over to the mint-green princess dress hung on a white shelf.

The employee turned up to the man, who looked helplessly lost. "You should nip that in the bud, before its too late. My own son went through the same thing - it's just a phase."

Bilbo's heart lurched at the wounded look in the child's eyes.

"Really?" The man asks, frowning. "I didn't think it was that bad..."

"Oh, well you don't want him acting like a girl." The employee says. "He's a boy."

Bilbo huffed, suddenly angry. Calmly, he walked over to the customers, and forced a smile. "How I help?"

"I want to be a princess." The little boy mumbles sadly. 

"I've got this." The woman turns to him sharply, irritated, and Bilbo lowers his eyes at her.

"Can you go do stocktake in the back?" He asks - it wasn't a question. 

She huffs, and stomps off so unprofessionally that Bilbo cringes. 

Once she was out of sight, he turns back to the customers. "Now, how can I help?"

"Well..." The man starts, glancing down to the little boy who hid half behind his legs as he heaved the toddler higher up his hip.

Bilbo crouched down, and offered a smile to the little boy. "Hi there. I'm Bilbo." He offers a hand. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

The boy inches forwards, eyes wide. "Fili." He answers quietly, putting his little fingers in Bilbo's.

Bilbo shakes them gently. "And how may I help you today, Fili?"

Fili looked up to the older male nervously, and upon receiving an encouraging, if somewhat befuddled nod, he turns back to Bilbo. "I... I want to be a princess." He mumbles.

"Alright." Bilbo's heart throbs at that nervous, insecure look. "What colour dress do you want to try?"

Fili's head jerks towards him. "Really?"

Bilbo nods, and holds out a hand again. "We have many colours you can try." He offers.

Fili gives him a heart-shattering grin, bouncing on his heels with excitement. "Can I try the green one?"

"Of course, what a great choice!" Bilbo cries, gripping Fili's hand tighter. "Any others?"

"Do you have a yellow one, too?"

"Why, yes we do." Bilbo nods, grinning as he leads Fili over to the wrack to pull off a dress in a size he guessed would fit the child. "In fact, we have _three_ that are yellow. Want to see?"

Fili nods excitedly, eyes sparkling as he looks at the dresses. 

Really, it wasn't that difficult to please children. Bilbo would never understand why parents tried to convince their children to stick to gender stereotypes; if a boy wanted to wear a dress, then let him, and if a girl wanted to wear a suit, then let her. He couldn't see the problem with it, honestly. 

When Fili had picked out several dresses, and was in the middle of choosing which one was perfect, the man stopped Bilbo.

"Thank you for that." He says. "I'm Thorin."

"Bilbo." He smiles, flushing faintly as Thorin grips his hand strongly.

"I don't really know how to dress my nephews." Thorin admits sheepishly. "A lot of parents say I shouldn't let Fili wear such feminine things, but I didn't think there was a problem..."

"There isn't." Bilbo says firmly. "They're your nephews?"

Thorin nods, and sighs deeply. "Their mother, my sister, is so busy with work and travels frequently because of it. It was best if they stayed with me, but she visits often enough that they don't have a chance to miss her." He smiles sadly.

Bilbo pats his arm. "That's very noble of you." He says. 

Thorin shook his head. "It's what anyone would do."

"Give yourself some credit." Bilbo grins crookedly.

"Do you think I should let Fili choose what he wears?" Thorin asks. "I mean, I've asked the parents at his school but they all tell me to put him in boys' clothing. I really don't think he likes it."

"Society can be cruel." Bilbo says. "This is a crucial time in his development. Let him do as he pleases, within reason, but make sure you fully support him. Never tell him he's doing anything wrong if he's not, you know?"

Thorin nods. "Okay, I will."

Bilbo smiles again. "Great! That's all you can do, really."

"Do you have children, Bilbo?" Thorin asks with a chuckle. "You seem very knowledgeable." 

Bilbo shook his head. "No, but I have a nephew, my little Frodo. He's probably younger than your youngest." He shrugs a shoulder in Kili's direction, from where he was clinging upright to Fili's leg. "He's too young to really think about what he's wearing."

Thorin laughs quietly. "Well, I suppose that is true. Thank you for helping Fili, though."

"You looked a little lost." Bilbo teases.

"Mister Bilbo, this one!" Fili finally says, holding up the original mind-green one. He looks worried. "Do you think...?"

"Why, it's perfect!" Bilbo exclaims, taking the dress to hold it up to Fili's shoulders. "It's just your colour! Don't you think, Uncle Thorin?" He asks over his shoulder.

Thorin doesn't even hesitate before nodding. "I agree. It's wonderful, Fili."

Fili grins broadly, clutching the dress tightly. "Can I have it?" 

"Of course you can." Thorin crouches, letting Fili worm into his arms. "Want to take it to the counter with Mister Bilbo?"

"Yeah." Fili nods.

Children were heart-warming, really. Bilbo couldn't help but wonder what his Frodo would be like when he was older - would he be adventurous, creative, kind-hearted? Would he be scared of the dark, would he love the sound of thunder, would he laugh when Bilbo shrieked at the sight of a spider? Would he like honey, would he drink tea, who would he fall in love with?

The questions were endless, but Bilbo was determined to watch the answer for each slowly blossom and bloom as Frodo gained experience and decided who he wanted to be for himself. 

"Thank you again, Bilbo." Thorin says as he watches Bilbo carefully hand the bagged dress to Fili over the counter. "I haven't seen him so happy in such a long time." 

"You haven't failed him." Bilbo says, because he could see the guilt in Thorin's eyes. "You've learned how to help him, is all. Just support him, okay? Never tell him he's wrong or bad for liking something that boys don't like."

Thorin nods, and after a moment of hesitation, leans across the counter to hug Bilbo. "Thank you."

"It's alright." Bilbo pats his back reassuringly, fully red as his heart flutters wildly. "If you need any help, just call me okay? Fili is such a sweet child, I'd hate for him to feel insecure..."

Thorin nods, and patiently waits as Bilbo flusters through writing his phone number down. "See you later, Bilbo."

"Bye bye, Mister Bilbo!" Fili grins as he lifts a little hand in a wave, following after Thorin like a sweet lamb. 

Bilbo waves at him, smiling broadly.

His job could be stressful, and the hours atrocious, but it was all worth it to see those confident, happy smiles.


	11. All's Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin kept his face still; a mask of steel, frozen in an expression of silent reluctance with eyes that shone with thinly veiled pain and a deep feeling of regret that ran as deep as his bones.

Thorin kept his face still; a mask of steel, frozen in an expression of silent reluctance with eyes that shone with thinly veiled pain and a deep feeling of regret that ran as deep as his bones.

"Uncle, are you alright?"

Thorin glanced down, and for a moment, everything in him felt as though it was about to crack and splinter into a thousand pieces. Instead, he forces a thin-lipped smile that would never reach his eyes. "Yes, Kili."

Kili gripped his hand tighter, wide-eyes turned up with a childish naivety that Thorin ached to never see go away. "Where's Uncle Bilbo?"

Thorin turned his eyes away, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. "He'll be home soon enough, love."

"When?" Kili insisted. 

"Hopefully soon." Thorin answers, eyes downcast. 

"Will he be all better?"

"Maybe." Thorin says.

"What about Fili?"

"Fili will be home soon, too." He answers.

Kili nods. "Will Fili be alright?"

"I don't know, Kili." Thorin sighs. "Your brother was very close with Aunty Primula."

"Like Uncle Bilbo."

"Yes, like Uncle Bilbo."

"Is that why Fili got to go- go say goodbye to Aunty Primula and Uncle Drogo? Because he knew them for longer?"

"Partly, yes."

"Partly?" Kili repeats, confused. "Why else?"

"Because Uncle Bilbo needed someone to take care of him." Thorin answers. 

Kili's face scrunches up. "But Uncle Bilbo is a grown up."

"Sometimes grown ups need taking care of too." Thorin says. "Uncle Bilbo needs someone to take care of him sometimes, just like you do."

Kili nods. "Can I take care of him, Uncle Thorin?" He asks, turning to look up at Thorin.

The cold grip around his heart loosens a little. Stiffly, he picks up Kili and cuddles him, waiting a moment until his shoulders relax. "Of course you can." He says.

"Can I take care of you, too?" Kili whispers.

Thorin presses his lips to the child's temple. "Of course you can." He repeats.

Kili grips a fistful of Thorin's long hair, and turns his head as he hears the car pull up into the driveway. They wait patiently until Bilbo, Fili and little Frodo wander into the house, grim and silent.

"Welcome home." Thorin says carefully, holding out a hand to take the duffel bag clutched in Bilbo's. Fili moves forward to grip Thorin's legs tightly, comforted by the hand that Thorin drops to the back of his head.

"I'm going to go put Frodo down." Bilbo sighs, anxiously rocking the infant in his arms. He casts a wary eye over his nephews. "You two should go to bed too, okay?"

Surprisingly, they both nod, and after lingering hugs and somewhat wet kisses they both disappear into Fili's room and no more is heard from them. Bilbo doesn't mention the fact that Kili should be sleeping in his own room by now, but instead lets it happen. One night surely won't hurt.

"How are you feeling?" Thorin asks quietly as he follows after Bilbo down the hallway.

"Tired." Bilbo mumbles.

"How was the funeral...?"

Bilbo let's out a long, drawn-out sound. "It was nice." He admits. "There were so many flowers, Primula would have been so happy. They played the song they danced to at their wedding. Nobody had a bad thing to say about them."

Thorin waits until Bilbo had gently placed Frodo in his new crib before pulling his husband into his arms. "I'm sorry, Bilbo."

Bilbo rested his head against Thorin's chest, but did not make a move to return the embrace. "It's not your fault, Thorin."

"I hate to think you're upset, even when your feelings are justified - and they are. It's okay to feel however you feel, Bilbo. You know I will be here for you whenever you need me."  
Bilbo nods, turning his face into Thorin's chest as he grips his arm with a single hand. "It's not fair." He whispers.

"It's not." Thorin agrees, rocking him gently.

"They just had a baby, Thorin."

"I know."

"Their lives were just- just starting. And then, now they're over."

Thorin thread his fingers through Bilbo's tangled curls. "Frodo will be okay. We'll make sure of it."

"How can you know?" Bilbo whimpers, turning to face Thorin tearfully. "It's not fair that he'll never get to know his parents..."

"He will know them." Thorin says firmly. "We have photos, and memories, and I'm sure we can dig up videos of their wedding and from when they first allowed us to film them with Frodo in the hospital and from that trip to the park we took a few months ago. Bilbo, he'll know them, because we know them."

Bilbo nodded, sniffling as his body trembled. "It's not fair."

Thorin smoothed a hand down his back, grimacing at the twinge he felt in his heart. "It's not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a really bad blackout tonight, hence the somewhat angst in this (because sad is quick and relatively easy for me to write, therefore it happens when I'm running out of time ^____T)
> 
> Originally this was going to be a conversation between Bilbo and Kili at Thorin's funeral, then it was going to be Thorin and Kili at Bilbo's, and then I thought I would keep everybody alive and relatively healthy (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b


	12. Nevergreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo, a winged Hobbit, descends towards a mountain in search of a new life for himself and for his newly adopted nephew, Frodo.

Bilbo cringed as the cold wind battered his wings, and tucked his face further into his scarf. Anxiously, he bundled baby Frodo tighter to his chest as he descended further towards the ground. He almost cried out in relief when treetops drift into view, swaying and bending under the weight of the storm.

He really couldn't have picked a worse time to escape.

_Except there would never again be a chance like this._

He bit his lip and set to bare it. There was nought he could do now, except try to get to the ground and hope no creature found him until the storm let up. 

Frodo grunted noisily in his arms, agitated. Bilbo held him closer, shielding him from the rain as he takes a brief moment to wrap the blankets tighter around him. 

Eventually, _eventually_ the ground came into view, and Bilbo cautiously lowered himself down. Once his feet were firmly planted, he furled his wings around the front of his shoulders and stretched them around Frodo's squirming form. 

It took him several minutes, but eventually his legs were steady enough to carry him deeper into the forest. He guessed he was on a mountainside - never safe territory, as mountains were often where Dwarves lived, and Dwarves had never seen Hobbits, which made Hobbits unseen territory, and therefore a threat. 

Then again, Bilbo had never seen Dwarves, or even Elves. He'd seen Men, but never up close, always from a distance. Hobbits tended to avoid most other creatures, after all, preferring to stay tucked away in their little homes in the Shire. 

But now there weren't many Hobbits. Not after the Fell Winter - there was still a respectable population, but there weren't any Hobbits of whom Bilbo was acquaintances with. He had to leave - for Frodo's sake, after the death of Primula and Drogo, and for his own sake, for a fresh start somewhere. 

Of course, there weren't many people who would appreciate the company of a single, lonely Hobbit, let alone a single, lonely Hobbit with a Hobbit baby in tow. He just hoped he found somewhere that he would be able to acclimatise Frodo properly in.

The sound of growling was hard to hear over the storm, but Bilbo heard it. He jerked his head up, eyes searching the trees. Frightfully, he spread his wings and jolted upright, moving to rest against a thicker branch high away from the ground. He watched anxiously until he saw something stalk out from the shrubbery.

It was a rider, seated on what looked like a startlingly large mountain goat. Bilbo pressed against the tree and watched as two more riders appeared behind the first. They did not look like Men, and were certainly not Elves - with a startle of realisation that shook his entire body, Bilbo realised they were Dwarves.

Bilbo curled his wings in tighter, resting heavily on the branch. He didn't know anything about the Dwarves, or their feelings towards Hobbits and Hobbit infants - he only knew that they were stubbornly proud, loyal to a fault and had a penchant for gold and jewels and richness.

One of the Dwarves suddenly looked up, right at him, with narrowed eyes. He looked so intimidating that Bilbo shivered; the Dwarf had a partially shaved head, and was covered in tattoos. He wielded an axe, and had knuckle-dusters on his hands.

Bilbo held Frodo tighter, trying to blend into the tree, which was an outrageous thought considering his honey-coloured wings stood out quite a bit. He trembled under the gaze of the Dwarves, blinking rain out of his eyes.

One of the Dwarves - golden-haired, no tattoos - stepped off of the animal and walked towards the tree. "Hobbit, the storm is too great! Come down, we will not harm you." He shouted above the howl of the wind.

Bilbo's eyes widened. He had a bit of a talent to know when people were being dishonest; it was visible in their face, in their eyes. Dishonesty could no be so easily hidden, not from a Hobbit who had never once told a horrid lie (as was the way with Hobbits; brutally honest creatures, they were).

The wind suddenly changed direction, moving so fast it knocked Bilbo right off the branch. He cried out in shock, furiously beating his wings as Frodo's blankets started to unravel. His body jerked as his right wing twisted painfully, and for a moment he sunk to the ground so fast he thought his legs would break. 

But arms grabbed him, holding him steadfast as the wind swooped up, leaving his wings to beat at dead air.

"Calm down, calm down!" The golden-haired Dwarf yelled as Bilbo's wings narrowly missed clipping his shoulder. "You're alright!"

Bilbo panted harshly, cradling Frodo close. He could tell the child was close to crying, and it hurt his heart; Frodo was a startlingly gentle, complacent child, he hardly ever cried and quiet unless hungry (understandable, for a Hobbit). 

"This way." The Dwarf pushed him forwards the goat, but Bilbo dug his heels in. There was no way he could ride that thing, he was probably allergic! He didn't want its motions to jar Frodo, he didn't trust his grip. 

Instead, he caved and beat his wings until he hovered just behind the Dwarf, nervous. 

"This way." The Dwarf repeats, remounting the large mountain goat as he gestures for Bilbo to follow him. 

Anxiously, he did. The golden-haired Dwarf led him, watching him over his shoulder frequently to see if he was still following. It was difficult this close to the ground, because the trees were closer together and he hardly had the room to expand his wings. Fortunately, the entrance to the mountain was not far - for a moment, Bilbo did not wish to enter because fear was still prominent in his heart, but he didn't have a choice, not with this storm.

As soon as he was out of the rain his wings felt drenched and heavy. With a groan he fell to his knees, holding tight to Frodo who whined loudly.

"Are you alright?" The golden-haired Dwarf questions, coming up behind him. 

Bilbo couldn't answer, he felt too heavy, too lethargic. He'd never flown in something as violent as that storm.

A hand gripped his arm and helped him upright. "This way." The Dwarf says, softer, allowing much of Bilbo's weight to rest on him as he hurriedly leads him down the corridor. "Dwalin, go find Uncle. Tell him what happened. Nori, go find Oin, and ask him to bring extra blankets and clothes to the guest room."

Bilbo watched as the Dwarves moved past them, hurrying to comply to the golden-haired Dwarf's orders.

"Come this way." He says. "We'll have a place for you to rest."

"Frodo." Bilbo croaks, gesturing to the child. "He needs... he needs to be dried. New clothes."

The Dwarf's eyes widen at the sight of Frodo. "You have a child..." He says, awe-struck. "Do not worry, he will be safe. You both will be." He offers a small smile.

Bilbo nods weakly, his heart hammering.

"Fili."

The golden-haired Dwarf looks up. "Uncle, can you help?"

Bilbo looks up too, and sees a tall Dwarf approaching them. He has a stern expression, and dark hair that makes his blue eyes look shockingly bright. Oddly enough, Bilbo thought he was quite attractive, and instantly felt ashamed of himself, and rather embarrassed. 

"Where exactly did you find a Hobbit?" The Dwarf murmurs, moving to help lift Bilbo from the other side. 

"He has a child with him." Fili says instead of answering. "They were caught out in the storm, Thorin."

Thorin's eyes move down to the blankets tucked into Bilbo's arms. "Have you called for Oin?"

"Yes." Fili nods.

"Alright, go help escort Oin to the guest room in the royal wing. He'll likely bring too many things." Thorin says, slipping an arm around Bilbo's waist and ignoring his ticklish jerk. 

Fili nods and carefully relinquished his hold on Bilbo. After a last, concerned look aimed at Frodo (which Bilbo found oddly endearing) he disappeared down the hallway after the other Dwarves from before.

"This way, Hobbit." Thorin murmured, guiding him further into the mountain. "What is your name?"

"Bilbo." He answered tiredly.

"And your child?"

"My nephew." Bilbo corrected with an exhausted frown. "His name is Frodo."

Thorin nodded, and led him into a room so big with a bed so large Bilbo was momentarily stunned. "Are you alright?"

Bilbo turns to look at the Dwarf. He looked so _honest,_ and open - worried for Bilbo's sake, for Frodo's sake.

"Are you alright?"

_Am I?_

Bilbo couldn't remember when he'd last been asked that. Not since his parents died, not since the Fell Winter. Not even when he stood sobbing at Primula's and Drogo's graves, holding a red-faced Frodo in his arms while their "family" drifted in the background. 

He couldn't answer Thorin, so he started to cry. His eyes welled up with tears that felt hot on his cheeks, but he couldn't look away. No one had looked at him like Thorin was in so long. 

"I don't know." He whimpers, his arms falling slack enough for Thorin to notice, and to swiftly slip one of his own under Frodo's weight. "I don't know, I don't know!"

Thorin gently guided him to the bed, pulled the damp blankets away from Frodo and the water-logged cloak from Bilbo's shoulders, before replacing it with his own. It was warm, fur-lined, and smelt familiar and homely and Bilbo starting crying harder.

"It'll be alright." Thorin fixes his coat tightly around Bilbo's shoulders. "I'll go start the fire."

Bilbo muffled his sniffles, and cradled Frodo closer. He seemed less likely to cry now.

_Am I alright?_

_"It'll be alright."_


	13. Nevergreen Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds out how the Dwarves knew of Hobbits, and why a particular Dwarf was so keen to know him.

"How are you feeling?"

Bilbo groaned, pulling his wings tighter against his body. His soft, downy feathers felt comforting where they brushed against his skin. "'M tired..."

Thorin placed down a glass of water on the bedside table. "Do you want me to restock the fire?"

Bilbo nodded, drowsy, and lifted a wing to watch the Dwarf move across the room. He wondered how he'd repay the Dwarves for helping him and little Frodo - he'd only been in their mountain, Erebor, for just over two days but they treated him like an honoured guest. The amount of blankets they'd offered him was bordering on ridiculous. 

"Are you feeling hungry yet? Bombur has prepared dinner." Thorin says as he lifts more wood into the dwindling fire. 

"A little." Bilbo admits faintly. "I don't want to intrude..."

"It's not a problem." Thorin answers, standing again. "There is usually leftover food anyway."

Bilbo nods, but Thorin can't see with his back turned. "I can't thank you enough for helping me." Bilbo murmurs quietly.

"It's not a problem." Thorin repeats.

"Why did you?"

Thorin glances at him.

"You didn't have to." Bilbo says, tightening his fingers in the sheets. "You didn't have to help me."

Thorin breathes out deeply. "No, we did not." He answers. "But I do not regret aiding you, Bilbo."

"But why...?"

Thorin wanders back towards the bed, and sits on the edge. He watches the fire for a moment. "What do you know of Dwarven traditions?" He asks.

"Nothing, I'm afraid." Bilbo answers. "We're not taught of the outside world much. Just in stories and tales..."

Thorin nods, and thankfully does not seem surprised or offended. "Dwarves only love once." He says. "Just one time, with just one person. Sometimes a Dwarf with love two, or even three - polyamory is not so uncommon, but loving just one is more common."

Bilbo nods, his curiosity piqued. 

"It's... difficult for us to find that one person." Thorin says warily. "Commitment is a big step, when it can be only done once. We have to be certain of the person we want to be with. Mahal created a way for us to find that person - we develop a mark, or a name, or something of the like similar to a tattoo on our body sometime during our lifetime."

Bilbo nods. Hobbits had something similar, but it had to do more with matching feathers then tattoos. "Do you have one?" Bilbo asks, before flushing. "Ah, if you do not mind me asking, that is."

Thorin chuckled quietly, and for a moment looked somewhat pained. "Aye, I do. Appeared quite a few years ago."

Bilbo was undeniably curious. He wanted to ask what it was, or if he could see it - but that felt too personal. Instead, he kept painfully quiet, pursing his lips. 

Thorin seemed to find his inner turmoil amusing. "Do you want to see?"

Bilbo tentatively nods, pushing himself upright. 

Thorin unbuckles his left arm brace, and lets it fall to the bed. He pushes up the sleeve of his coat, and then his tunic sleeve too, leaving his forearm bared to Bilbo's view.

He leans in closer. For a moment, a feeling of nostalgic shock floods through his system, making his eyes widen. A large, full feather seemed tattooed deep into Thorin's skin, and without even a closer inspection Bilbo could tell it was his own. All Hobbits had different feathers, and as such were able to tell them apart rather easily, and this was definitely his. 

"That's mine." He says, awestruck. His fingers twitched, aching to touch it, because it was his _feather_ and that's how Hobbits found their mate, they matched their _feathers._

"Is it?" Thorin says, vainly attempting to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Bilbo nods several times, at a loss for words. "That's mine." He repeats, realising that this is why the Dwarves knew of Hobbits. "Is this why you saved me? Because you knew your mate would be a Hobbit?"

"Somewhat." Thorin smiles, thin-lipped, and pulls his sleeves down. "I believe Fili would have taken in anybody he found out in that storm - heart of gold, he has."

Bilbo smiled faintly. "I see."

Thorin seems to struggle with his words for a moment. "Bilbo, how do you feel about this...?"

Bilbo gives him a puzzled look. "Well, I'd prefer to get to know you first." He answers. "But if it helps, Hobbits don't usually reject whomever has their matching feathers."

"Then Hobbits have soulmates, too?"

"Not quite." Bilbo shook his head. "We find a mate based on feathers - they're all different, you know, except for your mate's. But a mate might not always mean love, as not all Hobbits need a lover - sometimes it's just friendship. Most take a love though, and generally it's their match, but its not an enforced or expected thing." He shrugs. "Choosing a mate is completely up to the Hobbit, regardless of feathers."

Thorin nods, though he still seems somewhat confused. Cultural differences are difficult to overcome. "And polyamory?"

"Oh, it's a common practice." Bilbo waves a hand dismissively. "Has to do with feathers, though. Matching feathers with more than one person can lead to polyamorous relationships. It sometimes happens so that childbirth is more likely."

"Childbirth?"

"Some male hobbits can bear children." Bilbo answers. "Is it not the same for Dwarves?"

Thorin shakes his head, amused. "No, only the lasses can carry."

"Oh." Bilbo flushes. "Well, then." He coughs to clear his throat. "How is Frodo?"

Thorin chuckles at his hasty topic change. "Fili adores him, won't put him down."

Bilbo nods. "Okay, that's good. I'm glad he's alright."

Thorin didn't ask for their story, not yet, and Bilbo was glad for the privacy. "Do you wish to come have dinner?"

Bilbo nods, and shakily lifts himself from the bed. "It'd be for the best, probably. Hobbits don't go long without food." He laughs quietly.

"I'll escort you." Thorin offers an arm.

Bilbo takes it, glad for the help. "Thank you again, Thorin."

"It's not a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of thinking that this could lead to a Thorin/Bilbo/Kili/Fili pairing, since it's a guilty pleasure of mine ^___T
> 
> But I left it at this, for now~ ^^


	14. When The Sun Comes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's first thought upon waking is of the Halfling.

Thorin's first thought upon waking is of the Halfling. The brave, rash, sensitive Halfling who sneezed at pony hair but readily leapt in front of a sword-wielding Orc to save a would-be Dwarven who had shown him no kindness. 

Even still, after all that had happened with their unexpected journey and the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo remained by his side, adamant on fighting off any who dare to stand in his way. It was very touching. Thorin truly thought that Bilbo could even stare off Dwalin, if he so chose to.

As such, he did not find it uncommon to wake up with the Hobbit on his mind. It was a rather easy feat, what with Bilbo lying safely tucked in his arms, in his bed, in his mountain every night.

"Bilbo." Thorin murmured, nosing at Bilbo soft, tangled curls. Absently, he slipped a hand up the inside of Bilbo's thin nightshirt, pawing at his delightfully chubby stomach. 

His Hobbit was always a slow waker, especially when warm. He'd slipped back into a life of relative luxury now that Erebor had been reclaimed, and seeing him relaxed and rested in comfort made Thorin recklessly proud.

"Bilbo." He murmured again, blowing a small puff of air against Bilbo's pointed ear. 

Said ear twitched as Bilbo's brow crinkled. He moaned in protest quietly, and turned his face into the pillows more.

"It's time to wake up, love." Thorin says, rubbing at Bilbo's skin gently. "It's going to be breakfast time soon."

At that, Bilbo peeked open an eye. "Hmm...?"

Thorin chuckled. "Ever a lover of food, aren't you love?"

"But Bombur is a good cook..." Bilbo mumbled into the pillows, somewhat whiny, as he generally was when sleepy. 

"Yes, I agree." Thorin says, amused. "Would you like to wake up now, my Bilbo?"

Bilbo huffed at his placating tone, and rolled onto his back. "Why is your hand up my nightshirt, Thorin?" He asked around a yawn, eyeing him.

The Dwarf just grinned, squeezing a handful of Bilbo's soft skin. "Because you are simply tantalizing, and I cannot help myself."

Bilbo huffed again, chasing Thorin's hand out of his shirt. "A poor excuse." He accused light-heartedly. "To think you would attack me while I rest beside you, asleep."

Thorin laughed, and rolled over to straddle his smaller lover. "If you truly did not appreciate my affections while you slumber, I would not touch you." He says. "As it were, was it not I who woke up with your hands under my shirt not two mornings ago?"

Bilbo flushes, looking absolutely angelic with his red cheeks, bright eyes and honey-coloured curls spread out on the pillow beneath his head. "My hands were cold." He says defensively. "I was merely borrowing your warmth."

"With no intention to give it back, I'm sure." Thorin growled playfully, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of Bilbo's nose. "A poor excuse."

Bilbo rolled his eyes at Thorin's mimicry. "Well, you've woken me now. What's the plan for the day?"

"Breakfast first." Thorin answers. "I have a meeting at noon, and I'm fairly certain that Ori has requested your presence in the library at some point today."

Bilbo hums thoughtfully. "I'll see him at noon, then. Anything else?"

"I think Fili wished to see you as well, today." Thorin answers, raising a brow in question. "You and he get along quite well."

Bilbo grinned. "Of course we do. He's a little lion, the dear. Heart of gold. Why, he's rather responsible when not in the company of his brother! I quite enjoy our talks. Very thoughtful, he is."

Thorin chuckled, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Bilbo's lips. "I'm glad you get along with my nephews."

"Well, Kili is questionable." Bilbo answers teasingly. "He's a tad too mischievous for me to handle, at times. Did you know that just yesterday he made off with all my freshly harvested apples? If he'd wanted one, he could have just asked."

"I think he just wishes for your attention." Thorin offers helpfully.

Bilbo smiled faintly, and it was that nostalgic, adoring smile that left Thorin all warm and aching inside. It was the smile Bilbo usually reserved for glances at Thorin when he thought he was not looking, or when he thought of Fili or Kili.

Thorin would never get over how adoring Bilbo was towards his boys. When Dis finally met him, Thorin was sure she would be so pleased at how quickly Bilbo accepted her boys into his life. He was the perfect addition to their little family.

"Maybe I should invite Kili to my visit with Fili today." Bilbo says thoughtfully.

"If you wish." Thorin answers, kissing his soft little Hobbit once more before clambering off their large bed. He stretches leisurely, warm under Bilbo's appreciative gaze, and begins searching for clean clothes to wear. "Breakfast?"

"Right." Bilbo nods. It takes him a moment, but eventually he crawls out from under the covers and joins Thorin in dressing. "I might need to brush my hair before we leave."

Thorin chuckles. "Could you do my braids for me, love?"

Bilbo flushed, but not because of the intimate meaning behind hair braiding - but because of how terrible he was at it. "Thorin, you know I cannot do your braids justice. I do not with to embarrass you in front of your kin." He murmurs.

"Bilbo, my dear, as long as you do them I will never be embarrassed." Thorin presses a kiss to his forehead as he wanders past him in search of his coat. "You're improving rather swiftly, and you will continue to improve as long as you practice."

"And in the mean time, you are lumped with horrible braids..." The Hobbit murmurs sourly.

"And in the mean time," Thorin interrupts, "I will bear any braids you offer me, simply because you take the time out of your day to do them just because I ask you to."

Bilbo smiled. "You're such a romantic sometimes, Thorin."

Thorin rolled his eyes as he pulled his coat on. "Breakfast." He repeats.

Bilbo blinks. "Right, yes, hold on."

Thorin offers him his waistcoat, and Bilbo takes it from him thankfully as he buttons it up and pulls on his jacket. 

"Let's get going then." Bilbo grips Thorin's elbow, and turns his head back to give Thorin that dazzling, trusting smile.

Thorin feels his heart lurch in joy, and he returns Bilbo's smile. "Let's go." He murmurs in agreement.


	15. Twilight Bark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a dog called Acorn.
> 
> Acorn befriends another dog called Orcrist.

The sun was warm and heavy on Bilbo's back as he leisurely read the thick book he held in his hands. Absently, he tucked a stray curl of hair behind his ear so that it would not fall in front of his eyes.

A weight settled on his knee, and with a small smile he glanced around the edge of his book to look at his faithful dog, Acorn. He was a black-and-white Border Collie with an intelligence that was sometimes rather off-putting. Acorn loved to visit the local park, and often chased around acorns that had fallen from the large, oak trees when they visited (hence where his silly name came from).

Of course, Bilbo also thought that his dog liked to play around with the other dogs that came past, too. Someone, often a complete stranger, shared his bench with him with a book of their own while the dogs darted around the small duck pond. Most of the time, Bilbo noticed Acorn prancing around with a rather large, black German Shepard - he'd see the owner lying by the bank of the pond, watching the water, or sometimes watching Bilbo himself when Bilbo had not been observing him.

It was no secret that the man was very attractive; Bilbo found that he could not lie to himself when admitting that. He didn't even know the owner's name, but he knew the dog's - Orcrist. Bilbo was unsure of how to pronounce such a name, or even what prompted the handsome man to name his dog that, but each to their own. It was a story he would like to hear.

Besides, Orcrist was a sweet dog. He trailed after Acorn when Acorn prompted play, or simply sat to watch over him. Other times, when Acorn was adamant on sitting beside Bilbo as he read his book, Orcrist would leave the side of his owner to come sit with them. That was how Bilbo knew his name - he'd read the circular tag on Orcrist's collar. 

Today, though, Orcrist seemed content to stay beside his mysterious owner. Bilbo wished he had the courage to sit with the owner, to start a conversation, but his nerves left him rooted to his spot. Besides, surely someone as handsome as him had a partner.

Acorn whined, pressing against Bilbo's leg harder. 

Bilbo gently shut the book and offered his dog a small smile. "I'm alright." Bilbo says soothingly (because, as smart as Border Collie's were, they did not understand words as much as they did the tone of which the words were spoken with). "Shall we head on home, then? I think I've have enough to read for today."

Acorn, of course, did not answer, but wagged his tail in response instead.

Bilbo chuckled, and reached down to clip Acorn's red leash on. He stood and stretched once, and glanced over his shoulder towards Orcrist and his owner. The dog was watching them, his eyes drawn to the movement, so Bilbo waved childishly before turning and making his way down the path that led around the pond.

Acorn was quite happy to trot along beside him. Bilbo considered himself lucky - Acorn never had to be leash trained, because he had always walked right beside Bilbo, calmly and evenly. He never even pulled on the leash, not once. 

Today, however, seemed different.

The sound of barking made Bilbo turned around. Orcrist was barrelling towards them, pulling his stumbling owner along with a startling amount of strength. Bilbo squeaked in shock when the owner stumbled into him heavily.

_Oh my goodness he's so tall...!_

The man grunted when Orcrist suddenly doubled back, accidentally tangling the leash around their legs. Acorn skittered out of the way of the big German Shepard, making Bilbo gasp as the red leash got tangled with Orcrist's blue one. 

"I'm sorry-" The man started, only to stumble into Bilbo harder as Orcrist did another loop. "I'm sorry, he's never done this before-"

"It's quite alright-" Bilbo answered, trying to reach for Acorn's leash again. "Just an accident- ah!" He cried as Orcrist shot forwards, toppling both his owner and Bilbo over.

_Right into the lake._

The water was cold and smelt vaguely like fish. Bilbo spluttered as he resurfaced, tangled in dog leashes, resting with his hands buried wrist-deep in the bottom of the pond. He let out a strangled noise, and shook the mud from his fingers before glancing down at his soaked sweater.

"Oh my." He mumbled, eyes wide. It was probably ruined. 

Acorn started barking, standing at the edge of the water with his ears flat.

Orcrist sat next to him, collarless (as it most likely had slipped right over his head when Bilbo and his owner were tripped) looking rather smug with himself (if a dog could, that is).

"I'm so sorry." The owner grouched, looking more upset with his dog than with Bilbo. "Here, let me help you up."

Bilbo hardly had time to blink before big hands were gripping his waist and effortlessly hauling him upright. In fact, he only realised he was standing when he was suddenly eye-to-chest with the man.

"I'm sorry." He repeated once more. "Are you alright?"

"Well," Bilbo lifted up a sleeve and watched water pour out from it. "I should be, soon enough."

"I don't know what's gotten into that damned mongrel." The man muttered sourly, glancing at his dog for brief moment before holding out his hand. "I'm Thorin."

Bilbo blinked owlishly at him, feeling rather lost. "Bilbo." He answered, flustered, as he glanced up at the (stunningly tall) man before him. Piercingly blue eyes stared back down at him.

"I'm sorry about Orcrist, again." Thorin says, shaking his hand delicately, as if he thought his grip might break it.

"So that's how you pronounce it." Bilbo chuckled nervously, wiping the water from his eyes. "I've always wondered."

Thorin offered him a puzzled look.

"Oh, I read it off his collar." Bilbo explained sheepishly. "He's rather friendly with my Acorn, you know."

"Acorn?" Thorin repeated, amused.

Bilbo flushed. "Yes, well... just look at him." He sighed, exasperated, pointing over Thorin's shoulder.

Acorn, apparently bored with the situation, had snuffled out an acorn from somewhere and was chasing it, batting it around his paws and dancing around it as if it would suddenly spring to life and jump at him.

Thorin laughed, a deep guttural sound that made Bilbo's heart flutter. "Ah, I see now." He says. "He's a lovely dog."

Bilbo smiled proudly. "Thank you. He's an odd fellow, but a wonderful companion."

"Let's get out of this pond." Thorin says, gripping the hem of his shirt to squeeze the water from it.

Bilbo nodded in agreement, and shyly allowed Thorin to take his hand and help him from the water. 

"That wouldn't happen to be yours, would it?" Thorin asked, glancing back at the water as he wrings out his dark locks.

Bilbo glanced back, and sighed deeply as he watched his drenched book drift by. "Well, it was." He answered.

Thorin winced. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one." He offered.

"Oh, I couldn't-"

"It's alright." Thorin interrupted. "It's the least I can do after my dog tossed you into the pond." 

Bilbo laughed at his dismal tone. "Well, if you insist."

"I do." Thorin smiled a little.

_What a way to meet._


	16. Green Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis comes to visit.
> 
> She is awed by Bilbo's interior decorations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine [this](http://jacindaelena.tumblr.com/post/88974833133/e-cherry/) is what Bilbo's home would look like ^^

When Dis first came to visit, she was somewhat overwhelmed with the state of Bilbo's home. It was not as though it was messy, because it most certainly was not - Bilbo was still a very respectable person (so long as one did not peak into his bookshelf, because organised chaos made it all the more exciting to look at).

It was just - Bilbo's house was a little _overwhelming._

Thorin had been much the same all those years ago when he first stepped into Bilbo's home. Now they shared it, and Thorin loved to grin smugly when people first stepped in with wide eyes and parted lips.

"This is..." Dis struggled for words as she stared, awestruck, at the greenery that overflowed from the walls. Her eyes lingered on the sky-light ceiling, and on the garden beds that looked like they belonged outdoors but instead were used to line the hallway itself. 

Thorin was wearing his smuggest grin as he stood with his chin held high behind Bilbo.

Of course, Bilbo rolled his eyes - utterly ridiculous, Thorin was, but all too endearing at the same time. "This way, Dis." Bilbo gently takes her by the elbow and leads her down the hallway. 

"Did you do all this yourself, Bilbo?"

"Well, I suppose so." Bilbo answers sheepishly. "I grew up in this wonderful little place called the Shire, and my mother had the most wonderful garden. My father didn't mind it when she brought the greenery indoors, so it's always been a little strange for me not to have plants around." He shrugs absently, and grins. "I got a little out of hand, though."

Dis nods, and allows him to lead her into their little kitchen. Rows of small, decorated pot plants lined the windows and benches, while a tall, clear vase stood proudly displaying an arrange of brightly coloured florets. "How do you keep track of it all?" She questions.

Bilbo chuckles. "Most of it will grow with only a little watering. It's just the vases and a few of the potted plants that wilt, and only the ones on the table leave a mess." He says. "Tea?"

"Yes please." She answers.

"Thorin?"

He nods as he drifts into the room, placing a swift kiss to the back of Bilbo's head before engaging his sister in a conversation about her lively sons. They visit quite often, but always seemed caught up in some new and exciting adventure.

Bilbo busied himself with making the tea as he faintly listened to their conversation. Fili and Kili were always an interesting conversation, so long as they were not in the room. They commanded attention and were sometimes a little too forwards, but even so Bilbo couldn't help but focus all his thoughts on them when they were in the room. Honestly, they were so charming, Bilbo couldn't help but mother-hen them a little. 

His apparent liking to them, of which was rather enthusiastically returned, was one of the things that made Dis accept him so readily. She was protective of Thorin, even though she was the youngest sibling, because of the hardships Thorin had had to endure. While she didn't always trust Thorin's judgements (because he was pigheadedly stubborn when he wanted to be) she trusted Fili and Kili's, and if they liked Bilbo, well that was good enough for her too.

"How is Frodo?" Dis asked as Bilbo handed her a leaf-patterned mug. 

Bilbo smiled to himself. "He's good. He's become close friends with a few boys at his school - they're such sweet things, brought him right out of his shell. Just the other day his teacher told me he'd willingly read out his answers in class, _and_ got them all right!"

Thorin chuckled at his overjoyed expression, and reached under the table to grip his hand soothingly. "We're very proud of him." Thorin tells her.

Bilbo's heart flutters a little at Thorin's pleased tone. He'd taken Frodo as his own without any prompting from Bilbo at all - their relationship had been something Bilbo worried about when he first met Thorin, because Frodo was such a reserved child. 

But the little thing had taken to Thorin well, and now they were often inseparable. Bilbo really thought it was fate that had led them together, because it couldn't possibly be a coincidence that such a wonderful person had joined in little family.

"I'm glad to hear that." Dis says, sipping at her tea. She glances around at the kitchen curiously, taking in the interior design with fascination. "I don't know why you didn't invite me over earlier, Thorin."

He grins at her. "And share my little secret world? With my sibling?" He scoffs teasingly. "Even Frerin hasn't been over."

"And yet my sons have." Dis murmurs, raising an eyebrow. "Multiple times I hear."

Thorin's grin widens. "They're my favourite nephews." He boasts. 

"They're your only nephews." Dis snorts, shaking her head. "Really, how are you the older sibling? Well, at least I came here before Frerin. He's going to be so jealous."

"Of what?" Bilbo asks curiously, amused at their light-hearted banter.

"Oh, of everything, I'm sure." Dis says, nodding to herself. "Thorin's home, his new little child, and you yourself of course."

Bilbo flushes deeply at the praise, his mouth opening to stutter a protest, but he finds that no words come to his aid.

"Damn right he will." Thorin nods with all seriousness. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

To save Bilbo from more flattered embarrassment, Dis turns to him. "You really must give me a tour of your home, Bilbo. It's just so lovely - looks like it's straight out of a dream! You must tell me how you get these plants to grow so well."

Bilbo smiles at her thankfully, flushing at the compliments again. "Well, to get them to grow, all you have to do is..."


	17. Crowded Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo isn't frightened by the Dwarves, not really - until one tries to head-butt him.

Bilbo wasn't particularly frightened of the Dwarves - he'd spent months with the company, of course, so it was absurd to think he could be scared of them. He was just... overwhelmed.

The Dwarves that arrived from Ered Luin were much greater in number than he first expected. Bilbo had never seen such a congregation before - and had never felt so out of place.

With the arrival of Thorin's kin, every spare space in Erebor seemed suddenly filled. Half the time it was as though he couldn't breathe because there simply wasn't enough air to go around. Most of the time the Dwarves spoke in Khuzdul, and his knowledge of the language was limited at best. They acted in ways that often terrified him, and many looked at him with a... _condescending_ look in their eyes, as though he was not worthy.

So, of course, when he was greeted by overenthusiastic Dwarves of whom were very close to Thorin (by blood or friendship, Bilbo did not know) Bilbo was petrified. The biggest one approached him first, and greeted him in Khuzdul that Bilbo only half understood, before trying to head-butt him!

He didn't mean to, but he flinched away with a frantic whimper fast enough to be considered outrageously offensive. 

But things got really out of hand after that, because an offended Dwarf always quickly drew the attention of other Dwarves who rose to the occasion and became equally offended. By the time Bilbo realised he really should've just taken the head-butt and dealt with the resulting bruise in his room, there was already an uprising of outraged Khuzdul and common phrases that all blurred into a garbled language Bilbo had no hope of understanding. 

_Not even facing the trolls was this terrifying!_

"I-I'm sorry-" He stuttered, holding his hands up as he shrunk into his shoulders, apprehensive. 

Out of nowhere Balin suddenly appeared, shouting out phrases that drew the attention of the hall full of Dwarves from away Bilbo and to him. Although Bilbo felt terribly guilty, he took the brief moment of opportunity to flee from the room, thankful for his "burglar" experience that had taught him to be light on his feet.

He was panting as he dashed down the hallway, looking for a place he found familiar, when he suddenly ran head-first into yet another Dwarf.

"Bilbo?" Fili gripped him tightly when he almost toppled over. "Bilbo, are you alright? What is the matter?"

Bilbo pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the wild fluttering of his heart. "I-I think- oh, no."

Fili's grip on him tighter when he swooned. "Bilbo!"

"I'm alright, I think." Bilbo sunk to the floor, bending over. "Oh my goodness."

"What happened?" Fili asks, concerned, as he kneels in front of Bilbo.

"I have never seen so many people in all my life." Bilbo smiles miserably, tearful. "I think I'd like to go to my room now."

Fili nods, and slips an arm around Bilbo's waist to steady him. "You haven't been hurt, have you?"

Bilbo thinks of the head-butt he almost endured, and shivers, but shakes his head. "No." He answers.

Fili's nods and dutifully leads him to his room. "Wait here, alright? I'm going to go fetch Uncle."

"Oh, you shouldn't interrupt his work-" Bilbo frets, eyes wide as he wrings his fingers. "It's not worth it, really-"

"Bilbo." Fili interrupts, lifting a hand to cover Bilbo's mouth. "You're always worth it, alright? You're part of the family, and if there is anything - _anything_ \- that ever bothers you, come tell me or Kili or Uncle - promise me." He demands.

Bilbo nods dumbly, and only after giving him another pointed stare does Fili turn and leave the room. 

Bilbo lets out a long, shaking breath before gingerly taking a seat on his bed. He really didn't like crowds, he decided, especially not when everyone in them was taller, broader and stronger than him. 

Definitely not.

Absently, he wipes at his eyes, frustrated with himself. _Pathetic._

Thorin comes storming through the door a moment later, Fili right on his heels.

"Bilbo, amrâlimê, are you alright?" He questions as he swiftly takes up the space in front of Bilbo. He grips Bilbo's hands tightly, his eyes dark as they search Bilbo's face for injury. 

Bilbo sniffles. "I-I'm fine, really..."

"That cannot be true." Thorin frowns, crouching to be eye-level with him.

Balin enters the room then, without bothering to knock. "Bilbo, are you alright?" He asks, worried, as he comes forward to brush the hair away from Bilbo's forehead. "He did not hurt you, did he?"

"What?" Thorin growls. 

"Ah, our kin are a little rough." Balin says. "Poor Bilbo was almost head-butted, for they did not realise he's just a gentle creature."

Thorin turns his eyes back to Bilbo, carefully scrutinizing his face. "Are you hurt?"

Bilbo shakes his head. "No, no... I moved back, but I fear I've gone and offended them now." He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes again. "Thorin, I've never seen so many people in one place before."

Thorin rubs his knees soothingly. 

"There aren't that many Hobbits, you know." Bilbo says. "Not like there is with Dwarves. And, and I don't understand a single word of Khuzdul, nor do I think your family would appreciate any greeting gifts I would usually offer Hobbits..."

Thorin sighs. "I apologize, my love. I fear this is my fault, for not better preparing my kin. I do not think they are offended by you, Bilbo. I think they will be thoroughly ashamed when they hear of your distress."

Bilbo makes a choked noise, but Fili was nodding in agreement.

"I've already been complimented about you, Bilbo." Fili says. "Our kin are happy that we have found one such as you to add to the family. You have yet to meet my mother, but she's seen you, and she's very intrigued."

Thorin chuckled at that. "I'd have to agree, amrâlimê. Many have congratulated me on acquiring such a wonderful mate, though they are rather confused by your smooth face." He grins, rubbing his fingers over Bilbo's cheek.

Bilbo stares at him, anxiously rubbing his toes together. He didn't know how to react.

"I think it would be best to organise smaller meetings." Balin advises. "I admit, even I did not expect so many of our kin to appear in these first days."

Thorin nods. "Aye, I agree. Would that be more suitable, Bilbo?"

Bilbo struggles to answer.

Thorin grips his hand tightly. "I'll stay with you, and if not me, Fili or Kili or Balin, or anybody you already know."

Eventually, Bilbo nods. "Alright." He says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Thorin stands a presses a kiss to his forehead. "There is nothing to apologize for, my love, nothing at all. Shall we go track down my sister?" He asks, offering a large, comforting hand.

"Oh, I'll come!" Fili exclaims, grinning.

Bilbo smiles gratefully, and takes the hand offered by Thorin. "Alright, let's go find the Princess." He chuckles.

"Oh don't let her hear you call her that!" Fili cries as they exit the room, Balin in tow. "She already likes you, no need to flatter her! Are you listening, Bilbo?"

Thorin laughs at Fili's distressed look. "Aye, I think Bilbo will get along with Dis wonderfully."

Fili pouts. "But then she'll hog him! From you too, Uncle."

Bilbo chuckled at their banter, a somewhat pleasant feeling slowly starting to trickle into his stomach.

Thorin growled at Fili's words, his arm tightening around Bilbo. "Oh, I'd like to see her _try."_ He muttered, nuzzling Bilbo's hair affectionately. "My Hobbit."


	18. Future Holds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is cold and stubborn and not amused.

Thorin could tell Bilbo was cold - it wasn't something Bilbo was willing to voice, because the Hobbit was nothing if not respectable and therefore reluctant to cause a bother, but Thorin could see it in the way he held himself.

The shivering was a dead giveaway, if one could notice it. Bilbo's hands always shook first, but he was constantly wringing them or twiddling them or fiddling with something small, so it was difficult to notice if one was not looking for it specifically. Either way, his fingers would shake, and then his shoulders would tremble and he would look so grouchy and miserable that it was just a little big endearing. 

Of course, Thorin was sure that he was the only one who observed Bilbo closely enough to notice when the poor thing was cold. It happened frequently on the quest - in fact, that was when Thorin first noticed Bilbo's little tendencies, when they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and Thorin could feel Bilbo's shaking. 

Now, though, he didn't feel quite so strange or obsessed when he observed Bilbo for longer periods of time. Bilbo wasn't quite so tense about it anymore, either. Thorin was quite pleased that he had permission to watch the Hobbit now - they were in a relationship, after all, and had been for quite a while.

As such, it often left Thorin amused and a little taunting when Bilbo was reluctant to ask Thorin for something he desired, whether it be a gift or new clothing or more of the blankets at night or even comfort. Thorin insisted that Bilbo just speak his mind, no matter the topic, because there was not much Thorin would refuse him, but that stubborn, respectable pride of a Hobbit often left him biting his tongue. 

"Bilbo." Thorin says, loud enough to attract Bilbo's attention from across the clearing. "Come here."

Bilbo looked at him, pursing his lips in that way that told Thorin he was vaguely suspicious. He stayed seated, shuffling closer to the fire.

Thorin chuckled, watching Bilbo's shoulders shake. "I know you are cold, Hobbit."

Bilbo puffed out his cheeks in determination, ignoring the snickers of Kili and Bofur as they sit with Dwalin, Nori and Dori, all of whom had accompanied Thorin on this brief journey to Mirkwood. Relations with the Elves went... better when Thorin talked with the Elven Prince, Legolas, rather than Thranduil, of whom was occupied with other matters. It helped that Kili was great friends with Tauriel, another Elf, though Thorin worried that he was bothering her rather than entertaining her.

She seemed enthusiastic to practice archery with him, so Thorin never brought it up.

"Bilbo." Thorin coaxed. "I can see you trembling. Won't you sit by me, amrâlimê?"

Bilbo offered him a weak-willed glare across the fire. That endearment always left him shaky in the knees, and Thorin took advantage of that whole-heartedly quite often. It takes a moment, and Thorin makes sure to hold his gaze, but eventually Bilbo's shoulders slump and he slowly makes his way over.

"You're ridiculous." Bilbo growls at him. He takes a seat, and glares at the fire miserably, as if willing it closer.

"And you, my love, are positively freezing." Thorin tries not to grin as he manhandles Bilbo so that he is seated between Thorin's legs, chest pressed against chest. "Why do you torture yourself so?"

Bilbo frowns at him, and studiously ignore his question as he nuzzles at Thorin's throat. He pushes his way into Thorin's coat, allowing Thorin to wrap it around his shoulders even though he still wore it himself. "Why are you always so warm?" He counters. 

Thorin chuckles, lazily dragging his lips across Bilbo's forehead. "So I have enough warmth to share with you, I assume."

Bilbo snorts, making himself comfortable as he uses Thorin as though he was his favourite armchair. "I assure you, it's probably so that Dwarves can stand the coldness of a mountain."

Thorin laughs quietly, and rubs his hands up and down Bilbo's chilled arms. "You are so stubborn."

Bilbo rolls his eyes. "I've learned it from you."

Thorin pats his back reassuringly. "Ah, well, I suppose it's only natural." He grins.

Bilbo hits him gently. "Cheeky."

Thorin noses at Bilbo's soft, chubby cheeks, feeling more pleasantly warm than he had all night. "You are quite warm, yourself, you know."

Bilbo cuddles into him, taking the statement as it stood without a word.

"I love you." Thorin murmurs, once in Khuzdul, then once against in common for Bilbo's sake.

"I love you too." Bilbo replies on a sigh, leaning up to kiss Thorin's cheek once. 

Thorin can feel more than see the tension drain from the Hobbit's body, and he settles himself in for a peaceful night after kissing Bilbo's forehead once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially run out of ideas that interest me ^___T
> 
> Suggestions or requests are welcome~ Leave a comment here, or over on my [Tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) if you would prefer~
> 
> (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b


	19. Little Dwarven Café

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Offering to buy a person coffee is the correct thing to do after spilling tea on them, right?

Bilbo enjoyed the little pleasures in life - the sunrise on a Sunday morning, the way the first sprout of a new patch of seedlings would unfurl its tiny green stalk, how a wonderfully written book could transport him to another place in another time in another world...

Considering he was often cooped up in his neatly cluttered, little home with nothing but his plants or the odd neighbour strolling through his garden for company, he rather enjoyed visiting the little café in the little town next to the Shire.

In his defence, they had nice tea. Well brewed, with the right amount of sugar, just how he liked. The cashier, a nervous little thing with the name "Ori" printed across his nametag, was always very polite if not a little nervous towards Bilbo. It was a refreshing change from the hurried, impersonal greetings he got from cashiers that demanded his order with nary a smile. 

In general, he visited the little café quite a lot. 

As such, it wasn't strange to find him curled up at a booth wearing a big sweater with a heavy book in one hand and a delicate, steaming teacup in the other. Today was a rainy day, filled with dark, rumbling clouds and the thick scent of water on the air. Bilbo enjoyed this weather, just as much as he enjoyed summer days spent sitting under the shade of a tree with a soft breeze caressing his skin.

Bilbo cuddled further into his sweater, and nosed at his scarf. It smelt homely and comforting, and with a sigh to himself he carefully turned another page in his book. He was so engrossed that he did not notice a man approaching him until he was suddenly greeted-

With a startle of shock, Bilbo's hand went flying, knocking his teacup straight into the stranger. A cry of shock left his lips as he watched the man leap back quickly. The teacup clattered to the floor, thankfully unbroken, as a stain began to spread across the man's dark coat.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Bilbo cries, abandoning his book as he stands up swiftly. "I didn't even notice you- are you alright? You're not burnt, are you?" 

"I'm alright." The man says with a chuckle, pulling off his coat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Bilbo holds back a choked sound, allowing himself a moment to take in the man's appearance. He was at least a head taller than Bilbo (which was not all that difficult) and had a stunning combination of dark hair and ice-coloured eyes that left Bilbo a little breathless. Overall, his face seemed quite stern and worn, despite the youthful look in his eyes. He had a strong nose that made Bilbo think he hadn't quite grown into it during his adolescence, but was still quite attractive nevertheless. 

"I'm Thorin." He holds out a hand. "Thorin Oakenshield."

Bilbo fumbles to slip his hand into Thorin's, hurriedly pulling up the sleeve of his sweater with an embarrassed flush. Thorin's hand was large enough to wrap right around his fingers. "My name is Bilbo." He answers. "Bilbo Baggins."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin offers a charming smile, and slides into the seat across from Bilbo.

"I can think of better ways to meet." Bilbo mumbles miserably, bending to pick up the teacup. "I'm sorry for spilling my tea on you..."

Thorin chuckles. "It's alright."

Bilbo offers him a weak smile. "Can I buy you coffee to make up for it?"

Thorin's eyes soften in excitement a little. "If you insist."

"I do." Bilbo says. 

Ori bustles over a moment later, and takes the teacup from Bilbo's hands. "Are you alright, Mr Bilbo?"

Bilbo smiles fondly. "I'm alright. Sorry about spilling the tea, Ori. I didn't mean to make more work for you."

"It's not a problem." Ori waves him off. "Would you like another?"

Bilbo nods, and orders another for himself as well as something for Thorin. Ori nods, and scribbles it down before disappearing with the offending teacup and a small, sneaky smile to himself that makes Bilbo raise an eyebrow questioningly. 

"What are you reading?" Thorin asks, gesturing to the book.

Bilbo offers the cover up for Thorin's inspection. Conversation begins to flow rather easily with Thorin, Bilbo realises, which was rather peaceful. Sometime during their talk Ori brings over their orders, but Bilbo hardly realises until Thorin gently pushes his new teacup into his fingers. 

It wasn't often that Bilbo made friends so easily, because he wasn't one to approach people out of the blue and people generally avoided him - so this was...

It was _nice._

Really nice.

 

Of course, Bilbo wasn't really used to having a proper friendship with someone - if that was what one could call his relationship with Thorin, that is. Rather, it was more like a teenage crush, because Bilbo definitely felt something stir in his stomach when Thorin's eyes stayed attentive and interested in him. 

It was almost funny, if he thought about it really hard - but of course Bilbo felt as though the second time he met Thorin was impossibly more embarrassing than the first. 

He really hadn't noticed him. As was usual for him, Bilbo was curled up in his booth with a half-empty cup of tea and a new, slightly thicker book resting in his hands. It had to be a terrible coincidence that the scene he was reading was high-action and full of suspense - he just hadn't expected Thorin to bend over his shoulder to question what he was reading, and he'd just... reacted.

By hitting Thorin over the head with the book.

Decidedly not the best way to meet a person (for the second time).

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" Bilbo cries, wide-eyed as he drops the book onto the table. "I'm so sorry, are you alright?"

Thorin was wincing, rubbing at his head. "Good to see you too, Mr Baggins."

Bilbo cringes, anxiously reaching up to touch the side of Thorin's head with his fingertips. "I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I didn't even notice you - I hope you don't get a bruise."

Thorin smiles at him a little, and grips his hand to pull it away from his head. "It's alright, I should have learned from the first time not to sneak up on you." He chuckles a little.

Bilbo offers him a weary smile. "Want another coffee?" He asks.

Thorin grins, clearly amused. "If you insist."

"I do." Bilbo laughs nervously, sitting himself back down. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Thorin shrugs. "Nothing to worry about. What are you reading today?"

Again, Bilbo offers him the cover to inspect. "Do you come here often?" He asks curiously.

Thorin glances at him, and starts to look a little flushed. "I have been, ever since I spotted a cute guy sitting in a corner reading a book in a sweater than was clearly too big on him."

Bilbo turns red right up to his ears, smiling shyly as he wrings his fingers together. "Is that so?"

Thorin, looking a little relieved at his response, nods in confidence. "Oh, truly. I didn't expect to get covered in lukewarm tea, though."

"I'm sure he didn't expect to do that, either." Bilbo mutters on a weak laugh. 

Thorin chuckles. "Do you come here often, then?"

Bilbo nods. "Quite often. It's nice to get out of my home for a while, and Ori is really sweet. The tea is nice here, too."

Thorin nods. "You work from home, then."

Bilbo nods. "Yes."

By the time they both have a fresh drink in their hands, quite some time has passed. 

Bilbo thinks that someone as nice and handsome as Thorin doesn't often appear in one's life, and as such doesn't hesitate to give Thorin his phone number when asked. He felt a rush of excitement at the feeling of _adventure_ he got from even just talking with Thorin - it was refreshing, and Thorin had so many captivating stories to tell.

Bilbo could listen for hours.

He wanted to listen for hours. 

Thorin seemed willing to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Little Dwarven Café" is what I imagine the café would be called ^^
> 
> I want to thank everyone for their suggestions~ I'll be working on the ones I was sent on my [Tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) first, probably, because there's less~
> 
> Also, my birthday is on the 23rd, so I was wondering what I should do~ I feel like something special is in order ^^ Any suggestions are welcome~! (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b


	20. The Theory Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili comes to Bilbo seeking advice on love.

Bilbo didn't think he had much experience in the field of love. He didn't really believe in any of that mushy, overly-romantic garbage that was whispered around by love-struck fools.

He did, however, believe in the idea of adoration, and believed that intimacy was to be shared with someone you "loved" though he didn't look down on anyone who did it merely for pleasure or recreation. He thought that love was something you only started to understand when one was older, and mature, with experience regarding the emotions a person was capable of feeling for another.

As such, he was a little shocked, but somewhat flattered, when Fili nervously approached him on the subject.

"You want to know what?" Bilbo asks, looking at the taller Dwarf as he furrowed his brow a little. "About love?"

Fili seems to cringe at the word, but nods. He can't really look Bilbo in the eye.

"What is it you want to know?" Bilbo asks, as he continues stacking books on their proper shelves (the ones he could reach, anyway). 

"Just-" Fili frowns. "Everything, I suppose."

"Why ask me?" Bilbo asks, not unkindly, as he gestures for Fili to place certain books up on the higher shelves. "Surely there is someone else who you might question."

Fili looks at him a little exasperated, with a flush high in his cheeks. "I thought you might help me."

"You know I will." Bilbo answers. "In any way I can. Is there someone you think you may love?"

"Maybe." Fili mumbles. "But I don't know..."

Bilbo smiles to himself a little. Fili was always acting so brave, or cheeky, or responsible when he needed to be - but never vulnerable. It always left Bilbo feeling quite honoured to know Fili felt safe enough around him to expose a side of himself he would not be willing to show many others.

"Love is a complicated thing, however you look at it." Bilbo says as he leads Fili further down the aisle. "Try not to think of it too hard, and instead think of what you wish to have of the person you admire." 

Fili hums in thought. "How did you feel when you knew you loved Uncle?"

Bilbo startles, looking at the Prince with a small flush. "Ah, well..."

"You do love him, do you not?"

"Well, I suppose I do, now that I think about it." Bilbo says. "I've certainly told him that... I think it's more like I'm _in love_ with him, rather than loving him - because I love a lot of things, you know."

"I'm not quiet sure I understand..."

"Well, I love to read." Bilbo says. "And I love my garden. I loved my parents, and I love how the sunrise looks from Erebor. I love you and your brother, too. But I don't love you the way I love Thorin."

Fili nods. "I see."

"Love is a complicated emotion." Bilbo says again with a soft sigh. "It is easy to spot, but being _in_ love... that is much more difficult. I think you have to decide whether you are in love with this person or not."

"And how do I decide that?" Fili asks miserably. "How am I meant to know who is my other half?"

Bilbo frowned at that. He knew quite well about Dwarven courting customs - Thorin had courted him for quite some time, after all. It was nothing like what Hobbits did, but it was not unpleasant in the slightest. Dwarves only loved once in their lifetime, just one person, one time. They had to be completely certain that they loved the right person, which was why their courting went on for longer than Bilbo had expected.

Still, Bilbo frowned.

"You don't need another half." Bilbo says, turning to place a hand on Fili's chest. "Because you are not half a person."

Fili frowned at him. "But my One-"

"Is the one you will give your heart to." Bilbo interrupts, patting his chest. "And you will not be offering half your heart, will you?"

Fili thought for a moment, but shook his head.

"Whoever they are, I know you will give them your heart." Bilbo says gently. "All of it, and you will love them and be _in_ love with them."

"Will they love me back...?"

Bilbo offers his arms out, and Fili sinks into his embrace with a shaky breathe that makes his heart lurch. "Of course they will." He murmurs. "How could they not? If it is meant to be, then Mahal will let it happen. There isn't any need to doubt yourself, my dear. Anyone would be glad to have your affections."

"Do you think so?"

"Of course." Bilbo pats his back reassuringly. "Don't feel rushed to make any decisions right now, Fili. Take as long as you need to think it over, there is no harm in waiting."

Fili nods, and draws back with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Bilbo."

"It's not a problem." Bilbo waves him off. "Goodness knows how long your Uncle took." He chuckles. 

"Why do you love Thorin, anyway?" Fili teases.

"I suppose I just love him." Bilbo shrugs weakly, flushing as he smiles happily. It really was as simple as that - he was a Hobbit after all, and Hobbits weren't so careful and tedious with their emotions. "Ah, he is an idiot most of the time though."

Fili laughs.

"Who's an idiot?" Thorin asks as he rounds a corner, his eyes searching for Bilbo.

"You, of course." Bilbo answers, relaxing as Thorin's arms slip around his waist. "Who else would I dare to insult?"

Thorin growls in his ear, making Bilbo laugh to himself quietly. He knew he'd be in for it later, but he found that he didn't really mind all too much. 

"Thank you again, Bilbo. I'm glad you listened to me." Fili says, grinning charmingly. 

Thorin looks at him questioningly, but Fili turns on his heel and leaves without another word, looking quite pleased with himself.

"He's a lovely young man." Bilbo says, turning back to place the last of the books on the bookshelf. "He's growing up too fast."

Thorin huffed, because he knew quite well that Fili was already grown and that Bilbo was being uncharacteristically wistful. "What did he wish to speak to you of?"

"Nothing too harrowing, at the moment." Bilbo pats Thorin's arm, still tight around his waist. "Don't worry too much."

Thorin sighs, and presses his face into Bilbo's honey coloured curls. "You are such a strange, wonderful creature, my love."

Bilbo huffs, but returns the soft nuzzle wordlessly. There was that word again - "love".

He still was unsure as to what it meant, but that didn't really matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by Wolpertinker~ ^^


	21. Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo didn't realise that Dwarves do not experience the same common illnesses that Hobbits often do. 
> 
> As such, when he falls sick, so does Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, this is Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin
> 
> If that's not your thing, apologises~

Bilbo didn't purposefully get Kili sick, no matter how many times the Dwarf moaned it into his ear and whimpered it into the clammy skin on his neck. 

"If you are so grieved with me, then go sleep in your own bed." Bilbo mutters, pushing Kili's grabby hands away from him as he rolled over. His throat ached for a drink of water, but he didn't have the energy to get up and get one. Instead, he stared grumpily at the empty glass on the bedside table and tried not to aggravate his sore head. 

"Bilbo." Kili whined. "Don't leave me."

Bilbo grumbled as Kili's hands gripped a hold of him again, but he didn't shake the poor thing off. "Keep your paws to yourself." He mumbles instead, sighing.

Kili whimpered, pulling him closer.

Bilbo closes his eyes for a moment. He could feel the heat radiating off the Dwarf, and it was a sort of heat that the Dwarves did not naturally produce. Guilt riddled him, because Kili _did_ catch the illness from him, and it wasn't something he had ever built up an immunity to, not like Hobbits did during their lifetime. 

"I'm sorry, Kili." Bilbo murmurs, gently rubbing Kili's arm as best he could in the position he was in.

Kili makes an unintelligent sound. Almost aggressively, he pushes his way through Bilbo's tangled curls to place his lips against Bilbo's neck. "'S not your fault."

Bilbo painstakingly rolls back over to face the young Prince, and tries not to cringe at his blotchy, exhausted expression. Gently, he brushes a strand of Kili's dark, messy hair away from his face. "It is my fault." He says. "I should have been more careful around you."

Kili doesn't look like he has the energy to argue, but Bilbo can see his unrest in the furrow of his brow and in the slight downturn of his lips.

"I didn't realise Dwarves did not suffer the same ailments as Hobbits." He sighs. "You must feel terrible..."

Kili grunts, not unlike his Uncle, and blindly searches out Bilbo's lips for a kiss.

Bilbo's noise of shock is muffled. "We shouldn't." Bilbo mutters.

"We're already sick." Kili argues, a little dazed, ducking his head for another kiss.

Bilbo's body doesn't react like it usually would have (because he was too sick to be aroused) but Kili's persistent affections made his stomach feel warm and heavy like nothing else ever would (aside from the burning looks Thorin gave him and the way Fili would gently take his hand at any given time, with no care for who might see).

"Where's Uncle and Fili, anyway?" Kili groused, missing Bilbo's lips in his tiredness and instead kissing the corner of his mouth. 

"They should be here soon." Bilbo mumbles, allowing Kili to return for just one more soft, chaste kiss before nudging him away. "You should try to get some rest, sweetheart. You'll feel better after sleeping."

Kili whined stubbornly, but Bilbo firmly refused him until Kili relented and tucked himself up tightly in Bilbo's arms.

It was difficult trying to stay awake for any longer, but Bilbo forced himself to keep his eyes open. He watched Kili struggle with sleep, but eventually the Dwarven Prince drifted off fitfully and Bilbo let out a sigh.

Kili was most certainly picking up his Uncle's atrocious stubborn streak. He was relieved that Fili still remained fairly reasonable, when he wanted to be.

The door to his bedroom opened quietly, and Thorin finally entered with Fili right on his heels. 

Bilbo watched them through drooping eyes until Thorin noticed he was still awake.

"How are you feeling?" Thorin asks, moving over to Bilbo's side of the bed as his eyes searched Bilbo's face for signs of discomfort. He seemed to wince at what he finds, and Bilbo wanted to chuckle, because there was no doubt in his mind that he looked awful.

"Dreadful." He answers. "But better than Kili. He just went to sleep."

Thorin nods, gingerly brushing his knuckles down Bilbo's cheek. He leans into the touch, briefly closing his eyes at how good the coldness of Thorin's fingers feel against his heated skin.

"Have something to drink." Fili says, passing a fresh glass of water over to Thorin as he rinses a piece of cloth in water before placing it across Kili's forehead.

Thorin slips a large hand under Bilbo's head and gently helps him lift it. He places the glass at Bilbo's lips, and the feeling of the cold water soothing his parched throat has Bilbo sighing deeply.

"Sleep now, âmralimê." Thorin murmurs soothingly. 

Bilbo struggled not to drift off into unconsciousness at Thorin's words. He always had trouble not obeying Thorin, especially not since they entered this relationship, and especially not when he knew Thorin was looking out for him.

His eyes slid over to Kili, who looked less pained. "Just... just watch him, okay?" Bilbo says. "Some Hobbit children - infants, the weaker ones, they don't recover. I know he's not a Hobbit infant, but just..."

Fili reaches out to cup Bilbo's cheek, and smiles faintly. "We're right here, Bilbo." Fili says in that comfortingly way of his, sliding into the space behind his brother as he draws his hand down to grip at Bilbo's, of which still held on to Kili tightly. "It's alright."

Bilbo stares at him for a moment, his thoughts wavering, but when Fili grips his hand he breaks and nods. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the pillow, and if he had the energy, he would he surprised at how quickly his thoughts clear from his mind.

He didn't find sleep all too hard to find, not knowing that Fili would offer comfort if he were too unwell and that Thorin would protectively watch over them all from the bedside for as long as he rested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure who mentioned sick!Bilbo, or who mentioned Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin but I thought, why not have both?
> 
> (◍ ´꒳` ◍)b
> 
> Also, I don't like the title of this one ^____T


	22. Wakefulness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's sleeping expression was beautiful, yes, but his expression of love and adoration that he held only for Thorin was his favourite.

Thorin found that watching Bilbo sleep was a rather enjoyable way to pass time in the early hours of the morning. The way in which the Hobbit slumbered was unlike anything else he'd ever laid his eyes upon - it wasn't as though Bilbo was a particularly odd sleeper, he was just _intriguing._

On a regular basis, Thorin was typically amused by Bilbo's lovely face. Dwarves did not seem to same range of expressions that Hobbits did - though maybe it was just their Hobbit. It was no strange thing to have many of them watching Bilbo, fascinated by the way his brow furrowed or they way his lips would press into a thin line that, when combined with a certain puff in his cheeks, could either mean they had done something terribly wrong or something terribly right.

At least when Bilbo slept, he could not give that admonished sound or stare at Thorin in that disappointed way that often left Thorin (and many other Dwarves) begging for his forgiveness.

Thorin sighed in contentment as he watched the Hobbit sleep. Bilbo always did love resting, and most of the time it was well deserved. It felt good to see the Hobbit return to a life of comfort and luxury. Thorin enjoyed seeing extra meat on his bones, and an extra spring in his step. Bilbo just looked _healthy._

Especially when sleeping.

The furrow in his brow and the intelligent, observing twinkle in his eyes were absent. The lines on his face were relaxed; the creases in his forehead smoothed out. Thorin often ran his fingertips down Bilbo's cheek, marvelling at the softness of his skin, just to help himself memorise every possible expression the Hobbit could make.

Because Bilbo's face was so relaxed when he slept (most of the time) it was rather simple to tell when he was awakening. His brow would gain its crease of sleepy protest, and his eyes would move behind his eyelids for a moment before they would flutter open to almost glare at whatever dare to wake him.

It was wonderfully adorable. Thorin made a point to wake up before Bilbo as often as he could, just so he could see the Hobbit sleep and wake in the same sitting. 

"Good morning." Thorin says quietly, nudging Bilbo under the chin with his knuckles.

Bilbo lets out a disgruntled whine as he cracks an eye open. "Morning..." He murmurs. "Is it breakfast time yet?"

Thorin chuckles. "Quite possibly." He says. "Would you like to get up now, or wait until second breakfast?"

Bilbo huffs at his teasing tone, wiggling under the sheets as he stretches his sleep weary limbs. "What an impolite thing to ask, Mister Oakenshield." 

Thorin grins at him charmingly. "Time to wake up, then, Mister Baggins."

Bilbo half-heartedly rolls his eyes. "Release me then, you oaf."

Thorin reluctantly pulls his arms away from his One, and after one more comfortable, silent moment they both get up to go about their daily morning routines.

Still, even with his hands distracted with clothing and his eyes distracted with the view of Bilbo's deliciously round bottom, Thorin still remembers the way his soft skin felt under his fingertips and the way his face was relaxed and youthful and content with sleep...

His Hobbit had many, many expressions. Some tore his heart apart, but others cradled it gently and soothed away his own wounded creases.

Bilbo's sleeping expression was beautiful, yes, but his expression of love and adoration that he held only for Thorin was his favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin watching Bilbo sleep suggested by :3 (your username confuses me so much, btw~)
> 
> Sorry it's short today, my half-yearly exams are this week so I have been studying like crazy. I still don't know what to write for tomorrow, either~ ^____T


	23. Birthday Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being forgotten makes you feel cold, detached, sort of lifeless and without thoughts-
> 
> Being remembered is like a dam finally breaking.

Bilbo frowned as he folded close the textbook laid across the desk he occupied in the quiet library. He supposed birthdays weren't all that important - not like Remembrance Days or days to celebrate religious forthcomings. 

Still, should he not feel hurt by the fact that none of his friends remembered today was his?

He'd woken up excited this morning. Not because of the prospect of presents, and although he did like them he preferred to give them out at the same time (as such, Christmas was a wonderfully joyous occasion) but because the idea of being given a _"happy birthday, Bilbo!"_ meant that people cared about him.

Cared enough to remember an insignificant, pointless date just so they could tell him three, generic words. 

He bit his lip harshly, and wondered why his eyes weren't stinging with tears. He thought he would have been crying by now. Almost angrily, he gathered up his things and stormed from the library, a petulant frown marring his face. 

In fact, he was frowning so hardly at the floor that he didn't even notice a person entering the library until he ran face-first into their chest. 

With a startled sound, Bilbo toppled to the floor. His books went flying with distinctive thumping noises that made him cringe. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going-"

The man grunted. "It's alright." He murmurs.

Bilbo's head jerks up, because he'd recognise that voice anywhere. 

Thorin Oakenshield looked back down at him, somewhat curiously, as he gathered Bilbo's books. "Are you alright, Bilbo?"

Bilbo swallows nervously, but nods. He shared a class with Thorin at the university - they sat together, and talked, but never outside of the lecture room. 

"Here." Thorin offers a hand, and when Bilbo takes it, he is rather surprised that Thorin can lift him with a single arm, as the other was full of his books. "Hey, it's your birthday today, right?"

Bilbo's eyes widen. Awe-struck, he could only wordlessly nod at the taller man.

Thorin rifles around in his bag, and eventually pulls out a light blue envelope. "Here. I know it's not much..." He shrugs, and offers a charming smile.

Bilbo blinks at the card, but shakily takes it.

"Open it." Thorin encourages. 

Bilbo slips open the envelope, and pulls out the card hidden away inside. A picture of a remarkably smiley kitten wearing a kitten-sized party hat stares back at him, with a decorative speech bubble declaring "Happy Birthday!" clearly visible. Bilbo fingers tremble as he opens the card.

_"Dear Bilbo,_

_Happy birthday! Thank you for always keeping me entertained during our boring lessons. I hope you have a nice day._

_From, Thorin."_

It was so... _normal,_ it was exactly what Bilbo wanted. He stared down at Thorin's messy letters, reading the carefully written message once more. His eyes lingered over the scribbled out word at the bottom, wondering if Thorin automatically wrote "love from" like people often did when writing cards for family members. 

For a moment, it was as though there was nothing but static electricity buzzing around in Bilbo's head. He and Thorin were... friends, he supposed. He was definitely attracted to Thorin. Coming from him, and after the day he'd had, Bilbo had felt like he'd never been given anything better, even if it was just a silly cat card.

It was as though he could suddenly feel the pain of being forgotten again.

"Are you alright?" Thorin exclaims as tears well in Bilbo's eyes and swell down his cheeks. "I didn't mean to make you upset-"

"It's okay." Bilbo mumbles, scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm okay."

Thorin touches a hand to his cheek, mindless of the wet tracks sticking to his skin. "Then why are you crying?"

Bilbo shrugs helplessly, trying not to crush the card in his hands as his fingers clench and unclench. 

Thorin lets out a soft breathe and trails his fingers further up Bilbo's cheek, past his ear and up his temple to absentmindedly tuck away a strand of his hair. "Want to go grab a coffee?" He offers. "I know a little bakery just down the street. They have cupcakes I think you'll like."

 _Don't pity me._ Bilbo bites his lip harshly, and he finds that he can't meet Thorin's eyes. _Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic pathetic pathetic-_ "It's okay." He finally says, ignoring the shakiness of his voice in favour of taking his books back from Thorin's arms.

"Bilbo." Thorin stops him with a firm hand. He waits until Bilbo is looking him straight in the eyes, before saying with the most conviction and honesty Bilbo thought a human could possibly express, "I want to."

Bilbo's eyes waver as his thoughts tumble in turmoil. After a moment, he nods. "Alright."

Thorin waits patiently for Bilbo to put away his books, and watches with a faint smile as Bilbo tucks away his card carefully between them, so as not to bend it. "I wanted to ask you today." Thorin says as he leads Bilbo away with a tentative hand placed on the small of his back. "To come to coffee. With me."

Bilbo looks up in surprise. "P-pardon...?"

Thorin just smiles. "Happy birthday, Bilbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "happy birthday" can do a person the world of good, you know ^____T


	24. Your Hands, My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Fili "kidnap" Bilbo and ask (force) him to wear rabbit ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili/Fili/Bilbo/Thorin implied ^^

Bilbo knew that Kili and Fili were rather... _boisterous_ sometimes. They got on Thorin's nerves quite a bit, and always took up more than half of the entire bed between them both. Bilbo was unsure as to how Thorin had coped with them before he joined their little family unit, but those were thoughts for another day. 

"Really, Bilbo!" Kili says enthusiastically. "I'm serious."

Bilbo frowned up at the tall Dwarf. He grinned down enthusiastically, and shared a sly look with Fili, who was nodding in agreement with all that his brother was saying. 

"I somehow doubt that." Bilbo mutters, eyeing the objects held in Kili's hand with distaste. "This seems rather... abrupt. And you told me all of the relevant customs of Dwarves when I first entered this relationship."

Kili pouts, that over-exaggerated, extremely irresistible pout that made him resemble a wounded dog. "Please, Bilbo? For me?"

Bilbo tried to look away, he really did - but that _look._ It did things to him like nothing else did. How could he possibly resist when Kili asked him that?

"You're terrible." Bilbo cries, his frown deepening. 

Kili gives him a heart-shattering grin. Almost too excitedly, he reaches up and slips the headdress into Bilbo's hair, pinning it down with a bronze coloured clip that was lost in his honey-coloured curls. He fiddles with it for a moment, before giving Fili a questioning look. Fili contemplates it for a moment, before decidedly fixing it up himself.

"Are you happy now?" Bilbo demands huffily, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Fili was grinning now, too. "You look positively adorable."

"Absolutely ravishing." Kili chimes.

"I feel ridiculous." Bilbo mutters. "Why rabbit ears, anyway?"

Fili brushes his fingers down the fur-lined accessory, and for a moment, Bilbo can feel the ghost of his sturdy fingers touching his cheek. "You remind me of a rabbit, sometimes." He answers.

Bilbo raises a brow, intrigued. "Oh? How so?"

Fili grins salaciously, sneakily winding his arms around Bilbo's waist. "Your little nose twitches when your absentminded." He says. "Your ears twitch, too, when you hear something that puzzles you. You're flighty, but resilient - you eat those green things as well."

"Vegetables." Bilbo corrects.

 _"Vegetables."_ Fili repeats. 

"Plus, you're very active in bed." Kili winks, laughing outrageously at Bilbo's subsequent outraged splutters. "Oh, it's a compliment, trust me, âmralimê." Kili coos, slinking closer - close enough that Bilbo can see the adoring twinkle in his eyes. 

Bilbo melts at that term of endearment. He understood its significance. Usually, that particular endearment was reserved for Thorin's use, and even then he only murmured it during their most intimate times - at night just before sleeping when both Kili and Fili had drifted off, or as they watched a sunset in each other's arms, or after a tender round of love making.

To hear it from Fili or Kili was unexpected, but wholly welcome.

"Here, the tail too." Kili grins, slipping it onto the back of Bilbo's pants while he was distracted by his thoughts. Feeling Kili's hands work near his personal area made him jump, but the tail was clipped onto his clothing before he even had a chance to rebuke them. 

"Oh, fine." Bilbo sighs, tired of their antics for the day. Instead, he sinks further into Fili's embrace, glad when the Prince's hands press warmly against his skin. "Thorin is not going to be pleased when he finds us three, you know."

Fili cringes - Bilbo can feel him tense. 

"You did kidnap me out of his arms this morning." He muses aloud. Almost unthinkingly, he tilts his head back and lets the tips of the (admittedly cute) rabbit ears brush against Fili's cheek. "Maybe these will distract him, hmm?"

Kili laughs, dipping to press his nose under Bilbo's chin. He seemed to find the action oddly comforting, so Bilbo never complained. "That's the plan." He says, teasingly scraping his teeth across Bilbo's skin as his hands sink down to grip Bilbo's ass.

Bilbo was almost glad that his loud squeal echoed down the hall, and Thorin appeared, drawn by the sound. He looked positively irritated, and maybe a little aroused at the sight of Bilbo caught in between his nephews.

Thorin seemed torn between focusing on his nephews or on the rabbit ears as he stalked closer.

Kili whined at the interruption, and tried to put on his best pouty face to soothe his Uncle.

Bilbo chuckled at the overall hilarity of the situation. He knew the face wouldn't work on Thorin - if Fili dared to do it, it most certainly would, because his expression was impossibly more irresistible than his brother's. 

He was glad their relationship had progressed to where it was - sometimes, he was so overcome with emotion for his Dwarves that it felt as though their hands were all cradled around his heart, and it was all he could do but to love them with his entire soul in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the birthday wishes~ I really appreciate them ^////^
> 
> Kili/Fili/Bilbo moment + kidnapped Bilbo + bunny costume all suggested by DrBDamned~ I just combined them all haha~
> 
> My half-yearly exams start on Thursday, so the next week and a half will probably be short ones. Sorry about that, but these exams count towards my HSC so I have to take them seriously~ ^^"


	25. Melodramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin stresses over exams.

Thorin disliked studying. He generally did well in exams, because he was somewhat intelligent under the stern expression he constantly wore and his overall unpleasant personality, but that didn't mean he wasn't stressed over them.

And stressed he most certainly _was._

"There's not enough hours in the day for this wretched work." He growls as he tosses away his pen. He'd been writing enough today that little smudges of ink stained his fingers, and he found himself glaring at them, offended. 

"You alright, love?"

Thorin glanced up to see Bilbo poking his head around the doorframe, looking at him questioningly. Flecks of flour stained his apron and made his hair look snowy. If Thorin was seeing correct, what looked like cookie batter was smeared across his cheek. 

"I'm dropping out." Thorin declares. 

"No, you're not." Bilbo chuckles, wandering over to his table to peer down at his scattered notes. "You seem to be progressing fine, in my opinion."

Thorin huffs, furrowing his brows at his notes. "I'm writing too much to remember." He sighs. "Why did I choose such content-heavy topics, Bilbo?"

"Because you're intelligent and you were interested and there's nothing wrong with that." Bilbo reassures, running his fingers through Thorin's tangled hair. Almost absently, he gathers it all in his small, capable hands and ties it back into a low ponytail, out of Thorin's eyes. "Take a short break, then get right back at it, okay?"

Thorin grumbles, sinking further into his seat. He felt swallowed by the amount of things he had remember. It was ridiculous, really. Terribly stressful. Utterly inhumane. 

"You'll do well, Thorin." Bilbo pressed a tender, lingering kiss to his forehead, rubbing his shoulders gently. "I believe in you."

Thorin turns his head, just enough to swipe his tongue across Bilbo's adorably chubby cheek. He grins as Bilbo squeals in shock, flushing right up to the delicate tips of his pointed ears. 

"You taste unnaturally sweet today, Bilbo." Thorin grins.

Bilbo swats at him, huffing out his cheeks. "Shut up, you stubborn oaf. Get back to studying!"

Thorin leans back in his hair and crosses his arms loosely as he watched Bilbo storm back out of the room and into the kitchen. He was unbearably cute when irritated, even if he wasn't truly "irritated" right at the moment. 

Besides, it was rather enjoyable to watch Bilbo's-

_"Stop staring at my ass and study right now, Thorin Oakenshield!"_

He couldn't help it, he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, so short.... ^^"
> 
> I want my own Bilbo ;v;


	26. Voice Of The Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travel is done by sailing - Thorin meets a strange kind of folk.

Thorin hadn't expected to encounter anything of the unusual kind during his sail over the seas to Erebor. He was aware of the multitude of things he was likely to cross, considering the distance, and he hoped to avoid them all-

What he didn't expect, however, was to come across a _Hobbit._

He didn't even quite know what a Hobbit was. Gandalf explained to him, but the old, kooky wizard was hardly reliable at the best of times, so Thorin didn't really listen all too well. Until they were presented with their own Hobbit, that is.

The curly-haired thing breached the surface of the ocean gasping - the sound was a tell-tale sign that his lungs were adjusting to the air, rather than filtering it through the water like usual, and Thorin winced.

Hobbits were strange creatures, he decided. They had the upper torso of a man, but were much shorter in stature, so much so that for a moment Thorin thought the Hobbit could have been Dwarf-sized. Hobbits had two arms, too, but that was there the similarities ended.

It was an odd thing to see perfectly normal-looking hips blend into a chubby, mottled tail. He reminded Thorin of the seals they often saw in frozen waters when travelling, the ones that his younger sister declared "adorable".

He'd never really thought them all that adorable, until he saw this particular Hobbit.

And this Hobbit was _unbearably_ "adorable".

He was all big, doe-coloured eyes and chubby cheeks and furrowed brows. Thorin's eyes lingered on his alluring little hands, on his shoulders hidden beneath a billowing white shirt that hardly seemed wet and his pudgy stomach (evidence of a life of luxury and comfort) confined in an elegantly-tailored waistcoat. 

And it was ridiculous, for a full-grown, mature Dwarf like himself to stare, smitten, at a Hobbit who was flushed and squirming under his gaze in the calm waters beside the low-lying wharf where they gathered.

Thorin glared miserably at Gandalf, who looked anywhere but at him as he huffed away at his pipe smugly. 

That damned Wizard would have known this would happen - he did this on purpose.

Well, Thorin would make the most of it, regardless.

That Hobbit - _Bilbo Baggins_ \- was irresistibly adorable, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short, again ^_____T
> 
> After tomorrow, my most difficult exams will be done, so I should be able to write longer fics soon enough~ This is an idea I've had buzzing around my head for a while, I wanted to write it down while I remembered it (because I often forget these kinds of things)
> 
> I wouldn't mind expanding on this, if anyone is interested~?


	27. Voice Of The Ocean Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo settles into life out of the ocean. 
> 
> Thorin partakes in an interesting, late-night conversation about Hobbit fertility.

Bilbo had never been on a boat before. He'd seen them (oh how he'd watched them for hours as they drifted across the surface of the ocean like mindless clouds floating through the sky, of which was also quite the anomaly) but he'd never dared to get close to one.

Thorin's boat, though, was... unexpectedly entertaining. The timber felt strange - everything was built from limestone and marble under the ocean, and the only wood present was typically covered in a thin layer of mosses and other strange plants. 

And the _bathtub!_

What a strange invention, indeed! Bilbo spent most of his time lying back against its smooth, porcelain walls as the Dwarves struggled to come up with a better living arrangement for him. He tried telling them that he could just swim beside the boat, but then the aspect of eating and sleeping meant he couldn't do it continuously, and he did not like the idea of being dragged behind it like a shark lure.

He yawned, tired, and mulled over the thoughts of sharks in his head as he beat his tail against the rim of the tub. It didn't quite fit in comfortably, so his fins were starting to get a little dry, but it was not overly uncomfortable. Sharks were strange creatures - they quite liked the taste of Hobbits, and Bilbo shivered to think of the Fell Winter.

He'd never seen so much saltflake snow as he saw then, and he hoped to never see it fall in such large amounts ever again.

"What are you thinking of?"

Bilbo startles at the voice, sloshing the water in the tub precariously close to the bed. He tilts his head back to blink at an up-side-down Thorin. "Ah, Master Oakenshield- just thinking of the Shire, is all."

It was somewhat true.

"Just Thorin is fine." The Dwarf corrects, moving to take a seat on the edge of the tub. "I apologize for these arrangements, again. If I had known one with your... needs, were in boarding I would have made a better effort."

"It's quite alright." Bilbo answers, anxiously flattening down the creases in his waistcoat. "Though I would prefer some place... bigger, if at all possible?"

Thorin chuckles. "We're working on it as fast as possible. That is what I came to find you for. What exactly do you require in a bedroom? The sheets and dressers we have aboard would only rot or mould in water, they would not be adequate..." 

"A bed of sand would suffice-" Bilbo offers, smiling at Thorin's distraught expression, "And limestone or sandstone does not go mouldy. Marble would probably be too heavy, but we use it in the Shire, as well as a white stone from deeper down in the ocean. It crumbles when exposed to air, though, so you probably know nothing of it."

"Probably not." Thorin agrees. "Are you sure sand is enough...?"

"For now." Bilbo answers. "I suppose you could ask for fabric weaved from materials found in the ocean at the next port? I do not know what it is called on land, though." He admits. It was a common enough thing for their fabrics to be made from ocean-grown crops, hence why they never looked "wet". 

"I'll see to it." Thorin reassured. "And your diet? If you don't mind me asking."

Bilbo's eyes glittered for a moment. Hobbits loved food - he was no exception. "Fish, mostly - seafood in general is acceptable. I wouldn't protest to trying food from the land, if you're offering..."

Thorin chuckled, looking amused at his barely hidden eagerness. "I am offering, Hobbit." He says - Bilbo is almost startled to hear the teasing in his tone, but it makes him feel more at ease. "There is nothing you would attest to? Not meat, or vegetables, or diary?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, I'm... eager."

Thorin offers him a heart-shatteringly handsome grin. "Alright, then. Is there anything else you desire?"

"Ah, well." Bilbo flushes in embarrassment. "I have yet to tell everyone apart by their names. I'm even unsure as to which of your nephews is Kili, and which is Fili. I only know you apart."

Thorin put a reassuring hand on his tail, almost without noticing. He looked a little startled by Bilbo's tail, but when Bilbo made no comment, he relaxed. "You'll learn. I'll mention their names if you are around."

Bilbo smiles. "Thank you, Thorin."

Thorin pats his tail, and stands. "It's not a problem, Bilbo."

 

The tank they built him was rather homely, he decided. It was deep enough for him to almost expand his entire tail if he heaved himself up onto his elbows on the rim, and it was long enough and wide enough for him to have plenty of room to spread out.

The sand the Dwarves had found was soft and fine, and blanketed the entire bottom of the tank for at least half a foot. Bilbo spent the good portion of an hour shuffling it around with his hands until it was more to his liking. He'd had a wonderful conversation with the youngest of the Dwarves, Ori, about literature and languages and other things of the sort. He was rather sweet, Bilbo thought.

Thorin had managed to send Dwarves into the next port town they came across, and remarkably they had brought back fabrics that Bilbo faintly recognised. Not a lot, as was expected, but enough for Bilbo to use as a blanket and pillow and even a little bit left over to use as a shawl if he got particularly cold.

Bilbo quickly learned that the appointed chef's name was Bombur. He was thrilled to be trying out all these new recipes and techniques - Bilbo had much to teach him, and much to learn about food from the land. 

"And if you just add a little bit of extra salt when the heat is turned up, the skin gets crispy and tastes really savoury." Bilbo says over the rim of the large barrel he was seated in. Thorin often offered to move him around the ship when he was board, and now he was seated by the kitchen stove with Bombur, aiding in his cooking. 

Typically it was a bit of an effort for Hobbits to good things with heat. Fires couldn't be lit underwater, after all, so they had to get more creative. Hot water was directed from underground springs by pipes drilled into the limestone. Once cooled, it couldn't really be reheated, so they often created storage tanks over the hot springs to store heated water that could be used on demand. It was great for poaching food, or heating away the redness of flesh in the creatures they hunted.

The world of frying food, and cooking it over a flame, however, was almost completely unknown to him.

And Bilbo learned that he loved the taste of anything flame-cooked. 

Eating with the Dwarves was always an eventful time. They sung, and laughed loudly, and told outrageous tales, and sometimes even danced on the table, mindless of the food! Bilbo had never seen anything so unrespectable, and he absolutely loved it.

The free-spirited Dwarves made his heart flutter in excitement, but none more so than Thorin.

He truly thought that his little crush was a tad ridiculous. He didn't even know if Hobbits and Dwarves were compatible physically, but he certainly felt emotionally connected to Thorin. 

It wasn't unusual for Thorin to come seek him out during the night, when most other Dwarves if not all were already slumbering away. The majority of the time Thorin would carry him to the edge of the boat and lower him carefully into the ocean. Bilbo wouldn't linger, but would enjoy his time in the open waters before breaching the surface and allowing Thorin to heave him back up. He hated to think the Dwarf was losing sleep over his restlessness, so he was grateful for the time he got in the water.

Thorin told him much about Dwarves, and never quite seemed offended when Bilbo asked questions he did not realise were intruding. 

"Why are coronations held at night?" Bilbo asked curiously.

Thorin smiled faintly, watching the stars above them.

"Because when Durin first spotted Erebor, he fell to his knees in shock and saw his reflection in the shallow waters at Erebor's shore. What he saw was a crown of stars."

Bilbo breathed out in awe. "That's..." There was no word for it.

"And what about Hobbits?" Thorin rolled onto his side to observe Bilbo curiously. "What customs do you have?"

Bilbo frowned in thought. "Not many, I suppose. We don't have royalty after all. But there are festivals for harvesting seasons, and very large marriage receptions - why, almost every Hobbit attends a wedding. Everyone wears crowns of woven flowers, and the wedded pair are covered in ceremonial lace and ribbon that looks just wonderful with the right currents. It's lovely to see all the petals float by..." He sighed dreamily. 

"Are you not married?" Thorin asked. "Surely you are."

Bilbo smiled faintly, somewhat flattered. "No, I am not. There are not many who would dare marry a Took." 

Thorin gave him a puzzled look.

"My mother, Belladonna, was from the Took family. It's my father who was a Baggins's - very respectable family, so it was odd that he took her for a wife, considering her adventurous streak." He chuckled. "But oh, he loved her very dearly, adventures and all."

Thorin smiled considering. "They sound lovely."

"Oh they were." Bilbo grinned, rolling onto his stomach as he beats his tail against the wood of the boat quietly. "I still don't understand why they never had more children, after me. Surely a couple as lovely as them would have had a large litter."

"Hobbit children are common?" Thorin asked with a frown.

"Very - are Dwarven children not?"

Thorin shook his head. "There are not many Dwarrowdams, and even then conception is difficult. The gestation period is long, and still births are common. Many couples are lucky to have a single child, Mahal permitting." He sighed.

Bilbo blinked forlornly. "Hobbit females usually give birth to one or two children at a time." He says. "Though some have three."

"At once?"

"At once." Bilbo chuckled at Thorin's shocked expression. "They are only in the womb for nine months, so infants are always very susceptible to illness because they are not fully developed. As long as they aren't brought near the surface they are generally quite healthy - you can tell a healthy fauntling from their cries." He chuckled. "A child with healthy lungs is a very loud child, indeed."

"That sounds wonderful." Thorin murmured.

Bilbo hummed. "Male Hobbits can carry up to six, though."

"Male?" Thorin looked faint.

"Both sexes can carry." Bilbo confirmed. "Is it not the same for Dwarves?"

Thorin shook his head fast.

"Oh." Bilbo said, then shrugged. "Well, male Hobbits bear children too, but not as frequently. It takes at least two years for a second conception to be available, but it doesn't take for at least five years sometimes. Females can birth two children in the same year, if one is born in the first two months." He says with a salacious grin that made Thorin look faint.

"Two in one year?"

"Yes, with a nine to eleven month age gap. It's not unheard of."

Thorin looked at him, curious now. "Can you bear children too, Bilbo?"

Bilbo flushed, but nodded. "I'm able, yes."

Thorin looked at his tail questioningly, but doesn't say anything. Bilbo wanted to laugh.

"I'm assuming you have no idea about relationships between Hobbits, but I assure you it is possible. Just... not quite as obvious as it seems."

Thorin looked honestly curious, but Bilbo thought that the rest of that conversation could be left for another night. 

Thorin, thankfully, seemed to agree. "Shall I take you back to your room now, Bilbo?"

"If you don't mind." Bilbo answered.

Thorin slipped his arms under Bilbo and lifted him with relative ease. Bilbo's tail-end was heavier than his top half, and his tail was cumbersome, but Thorin didn't seem to mind as he took Bilbo back to his room. 

It was a little more difficult to carry Bilbo up the short steps to reach the rim of the tank, but Thorin eventually did and carefully lowered him into the warmed water. 

Bilbo almost sighed as it enveloped his skin. "Goodnight, Thorin." He says around a yawn.

"Goodnight, Bilbo." Thorin touched his cheek gently, drawing his fingertips under Bilbo's chin and across one of his pointed ears. The sensation made him shiver pleasantly, and Thorin smiled.

Bilbo sunk to the bottom of the tank when Thorin left, and settled against his bed of sand and cloth. It was surprisingly comfortable, he admitted to himself, as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many ideas for this headcanon that I wanted to write, and this was certainly not one of them, but oh well ^^"
> 
> I made it longer to make up for the last few short ones~ ^____T 
> 
> My hardest exams are over and my next two aren't until Wednesday, so there shouldn't been any really, really short ones anymore (hopefully).
> 
> Also, this isn't really edited, so excuse any mistakes. I don't always catch them all, and I don't have a beta, nor am I a terribly spectacular editor, so apologies~


	28. Black And Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An injured, blood-drinking Dwarf stumbles into the realm of Hobbits, the Shire.

Bilbo frowned as a sickly sweet scent drifted through the air. He'd first smelt it much earlier that morning - he'd woken up to it so startlingly he thought he had first imagined it.

It was only when he'd been making tea, at least forty odd minutes later, that he smelt it again. Just briefly, a sickly scent that reminded him of melted metal and mottled, half-wilted flowers. It was the scent of illness, but not mortal illness. It was unlike anything he'd ever smelt, and it made him shiver to think of a disease that could produce such a scent. 

For a while he doubted he was actually smelling anything. He'd been cooped up in his lovely Bag-End for at least a century and a half, with only the odd relative dropping by to drink his wonderful tea and attempt to smuggle out his lovely silver spoons. 

He sighed as he spun his teacup around in his hands. He grew all his own tea brews in his rather large garden, and smiled every time he put special seeds in the bottom of the cup that bloomed when in contact with boiled water. 

He watched the flowers in his tea. It was a Hobbit thing, he supposed, but he just loved to watch greenery bloom, even if it were to happen in his drink. These flowers added flavour and sometimes colour to his tea, so it was always a nice treat to drop a few seeds in and watch them bloom.

His mind turned over the mystery of that scent as he lifted his eyes to survey his garden. He spotted leaves turning brown on a few of his tomato plants, and filed away that information for later when he would regenerate them. The scent, however, was not something he had control over - and it was puzzling.

No one dared to come into the woods of the Shire, except for pesky Wizards. The magic of Hobbits was often very disillusioning - one could get easily lost without a guide, and the plants that grew in the woods did not like folk that were not of the Hobbit type. 

Bilbo sighed again, and downed the last of his lukewarm tea. He licked the flavour off his lips, and plucked the flowers out of the bottom. Their stalks were thin and already buckling under the weight of the flower head - they were designed to be suspended in water, after all, and without it gravity snapped their stems. 

He quickly transferred the flowers into a glass bowl of water shaped like a sphere, with the other flowers he'd drunk that week. 

Just as he was placing the bowl onto his porch steps in the sun side-by-side with several other bowls, that mysterious scent suddenly appeared again. 

His head jerked up as he locked onto the scent. His wings, transparent and lined with thick black markings, fluttered anxiously as he realised the scent was thicker and more constant - whatever was producing it was much closer now.

Bilbo surveyed the woods with suspicious eyes. If it were anyone with malicious intents towards the greenery, or any of its inhabitants, then the trees surely would have taken care of them by now.

It must have been a creature they had not encountered before - and therefore one Bilbo was unsure of, too. Obviously not very violent, but definitely sickly...

He gripped his porch railing as he folded his wings against his back. After going a century with them spread to his liking, it felt stiff and uncomfortable, but he did not want them to become targeted in case he were in danger.

He almost expected some creature with rows of sharp teeth and vibrant scars to come stumbling out of the trees.

Instead, what looked almost like a man came forth. 

Bilbo startled as he surveyed the man - well, it was clear he was not mortal, like Men, but Bilbo was still unsure as to what exactly he was. He was taller than Bilbo, but shorter than Men and Elves and Wizards, with broad shoulders and long, dark hair held back with braids and decorative beads. It took a moment, but then he realised. 

"What is a Dwarf doing in the Shire?" Bilbo murmured, narrowing his eyes. Dwarves were notorious for avoiding greenery, instead preferring to carve out their homes in the hearts of mountains. Bilbo knew that they were not fond of travel, nor did they prefer to spend time in the sunlight, like Hobbits. 

That was all Bilbo knew of them, though. Dwarves were almost as unknown as Hobbits - almost. If not for their penance for gold and all things affluent, Dwarves would probably still be a mystery to the world.

The man's eyes jerked up at the sound of his voice. They were rimmed with red, as if he had been crying, but Bilbo could tell it was for a difference reason. He looked as sickly as he smelt, all pale and gauntly. 

Bilbo stiffened as the Dwarf focused his eyes on him with all his attention. He'd never seen anyone with such a look of pure seriousness - the intensity in the Dwarf's eyes astounded him.

He was so stunned that he could hardly move as the Dwarf stalked across his garden, until it was too late.

He cried out as a hand slid into his hair and jerked his head to the side. The brief pain of the stretch was suddenly overcame by a sharp, piercing jab that made his knees shake. 

The Dwarf had _fangs_ currently buried an inch deep in his _neck._

"O-oh." Bilbo gasped as the pain of the bite travelled down his spine to settle in the pit of his stomach. He trembled in the Dwarf's grip, but resigned himself to the fact that there was probably no way to pry him off until his... _hunger_ had somewhat passed.

Bilbo shivered as he felt the Dwarf swallow deeply. He found that he pitied the man a little - how long had it last been since he'd eaten? And what could have possibly driven him into the Shire? Something terrible, surely.

Still, having his blood drunk without his consent or even a little warning was a tad unpleasant. His head spun with the sudden blood loss, and although it took him a moment he eventually hooked a finger into the mouth of the Dwarf to pry him away from his neck.

"Inside." Bilbo ordered, frowning deeply when his voice came out slurred. "Go inside, now."

The wind was starting to pick up, and the sun was starting to get cold. It was a sure sign that the forest was starting to get restless. It was likely there would be a storm later.

The Dwarf just watched him, eyes hooded and blurry. His lips looked flushed and swollen, and it made Bilbo squirm to think he was the indirect cause of that.

It took some forceful prodding, but eventually he managed to guide the tall Dwarf in through his rounded doorway. He briefly wondered where exactly he would put him - he surely couldn't sleep at the kitchen table. With a huff of irritation, Bilbo guided the Dwarf to his bed, almost tripping over his own feet as he did so.

The Dwarf was unconscious as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Bilbo itched at his neck, where blood was drying. Summoning the last of his energy, he moved to the kitchen to wash off the blood and made a brief cup of tea to aid in replenishing his blood. He fumbled through his drawers to find his first aid kit, of which he pulled out red-coloured seeds. They bloomed into leafy stems in his tea, and turned the water a dark red colour, like the colour of cranberries.

He drunk it all quickly, whining at the extremely bitter taste, but he knew that these seeds would stimulate extra blood production for the next few hours.

Drowsiness made him stumble as he wandered back to his bedroom. His mind couldn't stop running over thoughts of this strange Dwarf, and it made his head hurt.

The groan he let out as he collapsed onto the other side of his bed was rather humiliating. He was glad he fell asleep quick enough to not be embarrassed over it.

 

When he first woke, he felt as though everything he experienced with the Dwarf was a dream. He woke slowly, at first.

Until he felt those damned fangs in his neck again.

He gasped as consciousness flooded over him. He squirmed against his soft quilts, acutely aware of the Dwarf pressed against him, chest to chest, hips to hips. He shivered at the feeling of the Dwarf's beard against his neck, and tried to wiggle one of his hands free from the Dwarf's tight grip. 

Eventually he got one free, and wasted no time hooking a finger into the Dwarf's mouth to pry his fangs free.

He panted as the Dwarf rolled off of him, ignoring the pitiful whimper that slipped from the Dwarf's throat. 

Goodness, he probably should have felt scared of the Dwarf. 

But the forest hadn't hurt him, so Bilbo didn't feel too threatened. 

He just had to monopolise his blood more carefully, until the Dwarf was healed and conscious. Then he could get to the yelling and scolding.

 

It took two days for the Dwarf to stir from his state of unconsciousness. Bilbo made sure to drink his cranberry-coloured tea (because he refused to liken it to the colour of blood) and was careful in offering more of his blood when the Dwarf was clearly getting restless for more.

By that time, he'd collected quite a number of bruises and bite marks on his neck. He'd had to switch to the other side when it became too tender, and dreaded to think what would happen if any of his neighbours decided to drop by unexpectedly. 

He heard muffled groaning first, when he was seated in his prized chaise lounge by the largest windows in his house, a book sprawled across his thighs. Then he heard a thump and a groan, and before he knew it he had a very disgruntled looking Dwarf clutching his bedroom doorframe.

"Feeling better, then?" Bilbo asks, somewhat dryly, as he carefully closed his book.

The Dwarf glowers at him, as if this were suddenly all Bilbo's fault. His eyes, clearer now, and a stunningly blue colour, travel across Bilbo's face and down to his throat. They widen at the sight of Bilbo's bruises, but Bilbo makes no move to cover them. 

The Dwarf swallows carefully. "Did I...?"

"Well I most certainly didn't." Bilbo snorts. "What is your name?"

"Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield."

"Well, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo says as he stands and makes his way over to the Dwarf, "I am Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin looks at his hand as if it is the strangest thing he'd ever seen. He turns his eyes back up to Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "Why are you still alive?"

Bilbo blinks at the question, and lowers his hand. He figured the question would come up eventually - after all, Thorin had drained enough blood to probably kill anyone without Hobbit horticulture knowledge.

"Blood replenishing tea." Bilbo says instead. "Very handy. Why are you in the Shire?"

Thorin stares at him, looking somewhat faint.

With a sigh, Bilbo leads him to the couch. He was fairly certain their conversation was going to be a long one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Planning a part two for tomorrow, perhaps? This was getting a bit long and it's rather late, so I had to cut it short, unfortunately~


	29. Black And Blue Pt.II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with a Dwarf isn't as bad as Bilbo thought it would be.
> 
> Until it suddenly was.

"And your nephews? Where are they now?"

"I do not know." Thorin shakes his head. He looked exhausted and irritated, and it had taken hours to wrangle the answers Bilbo wanted from him. He'd never met anyone more stubborn.

Bilbo rubbed his temples with a sigh, before standing. "Tea?"

Thorin didn't answer.

Bilbo set about making him a cup anyway. He let his mind wander over the information Thorin had provided him, but all it did was make him frown. The world outside the Shire had changed for the worst, he supposed. 

He shivered at the thought of Orcs and Wargs, instinctively tucking his wings tighter against the curve of his back. There hadn't been many of them, and they were relatively weak - but not anymore. Their numbers had been growing in recent years, and they were becoming braver and stronger. They liked to cut down trees and slaughter animals and people alike for no good reason at all. Nothing about them sat right with Bilbo.

He hated to think they were a part of what had hurt Thorin.

It pained him to hear about the sickness inflicted by gold and treasure on Thorin's father. Part of the sickness clung to Thorin's very skin - Bilbo could smell it, heavy in the air, but dissipating now. The smell of war and Orc was much stronger, and would take some time to settle.

"What is this place?" Thorin questions, staring pensively out of one of the many windows in his home. "That forest is... treacherous."

"Oh, quite." Bilbo agrees with a subtle nod of his head. "The trees with lead you far off the path, and if the animals don't kill you, the shrubbery most definitely will. Best not to leave without a guide."

"And will you guide me?"

Bilbo stares at his hands for a moment, and lets out a deep breath. "If that is what you wish." He answers. "But I will no do it right this moment."

"And why not?" Thorin demands.

Bilbo silences him with a glare. "For one, I don't think you have any place to be angry with me. I'm not the one who stumbled onto your front step and siphoned a stranger's blood without their consent." Bilbo huffs, ignoring Thorin's cringe. "Oh, don't give me that wounded look. I won't lead you out into the forest because there is a storm coming."

Thorin glanced at him, irritated.

"And a storm mean the forest will get violent, even to Hobbits." Bilbo continues. "Besides, you are not nearly enough healed, and not even a Dwarf like yourself could possibly survive without a guide. You're free to try, if you wish."

Thorin looked at him, but shook his head.

"Good." Bilbo nodded, frowned for a moment, then nodded again as he passed Thorin his teacup. "Alright. When do you need to be, ah...? Fed?"

Thankfully, Thorin didn't look insulted. "I generally feed twice a week, but more is... preferable. I can go without for two weeks, unless I lose a lot of blood."

Bilbo nods. "Do you think blood replenishing seeds would work for you?"

Thorin frowns again. "I've never heard of them."

Bilbo hums thoughtfully. "I suppose you wouldn't have." He murmurs thoughtfully. He stands to rifle through his first aid kit, helpfully left out open on his bench top, and pulls out the small vial of cranberry coloured seeds. 

"These are blood replenishing seeds." He says. "You put them in tea; they bloom into a leafy, red coloured stem that when drunk boosts the body's production of blood by almost forty-percent for a few hours. Hobbits grow them, but not to feed vampires, usually. They're typically used after traumatic childbirth, but they're universal." He shrugged. 

"Can't hurt to try." Thorin says after a moment of thought. 

"I can't promise it will work." Bilbo drops a few seeds into Thorin's tea, watches them bloom, then watches Thorin's eyebrows raise. 

Thorin shrugs, and lifts the cup to his lips.

It's almost comical how quickly his face scrunches up. 

Bilbo can tell he only just manages to not spit it out all over Bilbo's kitchen table. "No good, then?" He asks.

Thorin shakes his head. 

"Then swap with me." Bilbo holds out his own cup. At Thorin's disapproving look, he huffs exasperatedly. "I see no point in wasting those seeds." He says. "I have no current plans to bear children, so I have no need for them - they'll be hard to grow, so my supply is limited."

"Fine." Thorin swaps teacups with him, and after a moment, takes a sip of the normal tea. He seems to find it much more pleasing.

Bilbo nods to himself, feeling accomplished. Honestly, a little swapped saliva wouldn't hurt anyone. He'd long since gotten over _that_ particular phase. 

Besides, those seeds would be difficult to grow.

 

"I'm sorry."

Bilbo sleepily lifts his head from where it was cushioned on his folded arms. _Did I fall asleep at my desk? ___

"I'm sorry." Thorin repeats quietly. "I do not... I do not ever drink from someone... without their willing consent. I did not mean to hurt you, or burden you. I'm sorry for intruding on your life with my misery."

Bilbo wanted to protest - it wasn't Thorin's fault, Bilbo understands he wouldn't have done it if he were not on death's door, the forest didn't hate him, didn't hurt him, that it was actually a little nice to have a companion-

"I'm sorry." Thorin murmurs once again.

And then he was gone, and Bilbo woke up thinking that maybe it was all a dream. 

 

"No, Thorin, you have to make the hole a little wider-"

"I do not understand the pleasure in this." Thorin growls, glaring.

Bilbo huffs at him. "Gardening is very comforting, thank you! You just don't have the hands for it."

"My hands are for forging iron and moulding gold! Digging in dirt and uprooting weeds are not things Dwarves do."

Bilbo almost wanted to laugh. Thorin was ridiculously childish sometimes. "Go make tea, I'll be done soon."

Thorin mutters and grumbles as he stalks off. "I don't even know how to make tea."

Bilbo smiles to his flowers. His tomatoes were thriving now, after a little attention from the capable Hobbit. Now he had to make those pesky blood-seeds grow. They were notoriously difficult, and the slightest dip in their optimal conditions for growth would certainly cause them to wilt. He sighed as he smoothed earth over the seeds, letting his hands linger. Hobbits didn't practice magic, not like Elves or Wizards, but there was... _something_ that made them different from normal mortals, besides their obvious physical differences. 

And whatever it was, it allowed them to grow things from the earth like no other race, to communicate with the forest and live a symbiotic life with the trees like no one else could.

He hoped these seeds would grow. He rather liked Thorin's company, and was glad that the Dwarf hadn't requested a guide to lead him out of the Shire yet.

"Hobbit, I have tea." Thorin calls from the door.

"Just call me Bilbo, already." He sighs, standing. His feet hurt from sitting on them all morning - pins and needles always meant that his tough Hobbit feet were a little sore, and that it would probably be best not to walk on them straight away. It wasn't quite that uncommon an occurrence.

Instead of walking, he unfurled his wings, warmed from the heat of the sun on his back, and fluttered over to his porch steps. They beat the air almost soundlessly, and carried him to his steps without a problem. He may have been aging, but his wings were still very capable, and quite pretty, if he did say so himself. 

Thorin just stared, looking puzzled. He gave up the cup when Bilbo took it from his grip.

Bilbo sighed as he wandered into his house, letting his wings fold back down comfortably. The tea tasted a little too sweet, but wasn't bad. 

"Are you hungry?" Bilbo asked over his shoulder. "I can make something for lunch."

"I'm a little..." Thorin cleared his throat. "Famished."

Bilbo blinks, before startling with realisation. "Oh." He says, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. It had been at least a week since Thorin had drunk from him in the middle of the night (by accident) and the Dwarf was still recovering from whatever injury he had sustained... "Um, well, I'm not objecting. As long as you don't take too much without letting me drink tea."

Thorin frowned a little. "I'm... hungry, so I don't think I can... monitor how much I take, not if I were just eating for eating's sake."

"I'll make sure you don't go overboard." Bilbo says after a moment, with a small, forced smile. "If it's what you need, take it."

Thorin swallowed - hard enough for Bilbo to see the muscles in his throat working. Eventually he nodded, and took Bilbo's hand after their cups were placed down to draw the small Hobbit closer.

"Are you sure-?"

"Just do it." Bilbo huffed, tilting his neck to the side.

Thorin ducks his head, almost as if he really didn't want to, and opens his lips against Bilbo's neck. Bilbo could feel his breath, warm and moist against his skin, before the feeling of sharp points dancing across his throat made him squeeze his eyes shut. Thorin was searching for the right spot, thankfully avoiding the fading bite marks, and when he found the spot he desired, he briefly tensed before plunging his fangs in. 

_Hard._

Bilbo shuddered, he couldn't help it. The bite hurt, like it had before, but then it didn't. It didn't feel pleasurable, but it felt really close to it. Those feelings made Bilbo feel wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to drive Thorin away.

Maybe he just liked Thorin.

Bilbo clenched a fist in Thorin's coat as he tried to focus on monitoring how much blood Thorin was consuming. He seemed almost as ravenous as he had when he first arrived in Bag-End, but now that hunger seemed more controlled, as if Thorin was aware of the fact that he was drinking someone's blood now - he wasn't mindless, he realised it was Bilbo's blood. Sort of.

When Bilbo started to feel light headed, he hooked a finger into Thorin's mouth and pried his fangs free, flushing at the tongue that swept across his fingertip. 

_Well that was new._

Bilbo attempted to pull away from Thorin's overly tight grip, but stumbled. He clutched the edge of the table and shook his head, before taking a seat. "Thorin?"

For a moment Thorin didn't answer, and a spike of fear went through Bilbo. Then, Thorin turned to look at him, furiously licking his reddened lips. "Tea?" He asked, voice gravelly.

Bilbo nodded, and pressed his forehead to the tabletop. "Please..."

 

Sometimes Bilbo stayed up past when Thorin went to sleep, sitting on his chaise lounge to watch the moonlight guide midnight flowers into blooming, or to watch stars rain from the sky when the heavens split and collapsed.

Tonight, there would be another storm. Bilbo watched the darkened clouds roll in to cover up the moon. The flowers that depended on its light closed up, hiding away their petals from view.

Bilbo thought that tonight's storm would not be a good one. 

He let his thoughts mull over the recent activity in his little home. It had all been really nice, if he were to admit it to himself. Thorin was a strange man, but he seemed adjusted to Hobbit life. 

Bilbo didn't really want him to leave. It would be nice to have the other half of his bed back, yes, and it would be nice not to have to nurture such demanding plants like the blood-seeds, but Thorin's company was... nice. Really nice.

And the blood-drinking wasn't a problem, either. The seeds really helped. Bilbo didn't mind cooking for two, or doing laundry for two, and he liked to have someone to talk to other than his plants.

But it would be selfish to ask Thorin to stay. He had a family out there that depended on him - a sister, nephews...

It would be reckless for him to stay, and Bilbo knew that.

So why had he?

He was clearly back to almost full strength. He had fed recently - he could just ask Bilbo to lead him out of the Shire, and he knew Bilbo would willingly. 

Those thoughts gave Bilbo an itch he just couldn't scratch, and it was clearly keeping him up at night.

"Why are you still awake, Hobbit?"

Bilbo jumped at the voice. "Thorin." He breathed out, pressing a hand to his heart. He turned his eyes back out the window. "It's going to storm."

Thorin wandered over to peer out of the window. "How can you tell?"

"The forest." Bilbo admitted. "It's... just a feeling, but I know it's correct. The forest is preparing for the storm, I can sense it."

Thorin nods, and doesn't question it.

Bilbo bites his lip, frowning. "Thorin, why have you not- don't you- why have you not requested to leave, yet?"

"Do you not wish me to stay?" Thorin asks, raising a brow.

Bilbo flushes. "No! No, that's not it." He mumbles. "It's just... I thought you would have wished to leave, by now. What of your family? Your nephews?"

Thorin lets out a deep breath, and looks away. He looks troubled, like he wishes to say something. For a moment, both Hobbit and Dwarf are silent.

Then Bilbo frowns. "Do you think you owe me something?"

Thorin startles, and glances at him.

"You think you owe me something." Bilbo rephrases, taking a step back. "You think I saved your life for- for something? Is that it?"

Thorin goes to say something, but then decides against it. "Bilbo..."

"No." Bilbo shook his head, frowning hard, pursing his lips, trying to ignore the burning of his eyes. "If all you feel for me is pity, then just... go back to sleep."

Thorin reaches out to take his hand, but Bilbo flinches, drawing away.

Thorin stares, but drops his outstretched hand and turns away.

Bilbo waits to hear the bedroom door shut slowly, before sinking back down onto the chaise. He breathes in, then breathes out, and tangles his fingers in his lap.

Rain starts to patter against his window. He turns his head to watch the drops slide down the glass panes. _That was the first time he's used my name._

If all he was, was pity, then he'd rather be alone.


	30. Black And Blue Pt.III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation leads to a pleasant outcome.

Bilbo glared broodingly at his tea. It was only half-drunk, and completely cold, because he hadn't been able to bring himself to drink it.

What a poor excuse for a Hobbit he was.

Bilbo sighed, agitated, and placed down the tea cup noisily. He made his way out of his little rounded door and sat down on the cushioned bench he kept on his porch. It was still storming quite spectacularly, and had been for the last four days.

It had been rather unpleasant, if Bilbo were being honest. 

Bilbo bit his lip in thought as he fidgeted with his fingers and wriggled his toes. His wings were starting to feel clammy due to the moisture in the air, and it was uncomfortable. Not as uncomfortable as making contact with Thorin, however, who had yet to have an opportunity to leave. 

Letting out a deep breath of air, Bilbo turned his eyes up to observe his drenched garden. He was unsure if the blood-seeds would survive the torrential downpour. His heart lurched into his throat when he realised he wouldn't need them anymore.

Still, he felt pained to think they would wither. He didn't want any of his plants to wilt, not after he put so much time and care into perfectly cultivating them to life. Even if he didn't use them, it was pointless to allow them to die.

Again, he sighed, resting back against his chair. Life would be dull without Thorin hovering over his shoulder. He'd become accustomed to the Dwarf's presence, and startled when he saw his neck bare and unbruised in the mirror in the morning. He didn't even mind the small twinge of pain that came with the bite anymore - in fact, he was rather used to it.

"Hobbit?"

Bilbo jumped at the voice, jerking around to stare at the Dwarf that watched him from the doorway. "Thorin..."

Thorin glanced away from him for a moment, looking pensive. He didn't look quite so worn or pale without the sun beating down on him - his somewhat tanned skin seemed healthier with the gloomy weather. Eventually he turned back to glance at Bilbo. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

Bilbo's nose twitches nervously, but he moves to one end of the bench to allow a space for Thorin to sit down. The mighty Dwarf looked rather out of place on the little Hobbit bench, but he squeezed his bulk onto it nevertheless. 

"I wanted to... apologize." Thorin edges carefully. "Firstly for drinking from you without your consent, and intruding in your home much past what is respectable. And secondly for misleading you to believe that I only stayed out of pity."

"But is that not true?" Bilbo argues quietly, staring down at his hands. "You think you owe me something, because you don't drink from people without their consent, but you did. You stayed because you felt obligated, not because... because..." _Not because you wanted to._

"I did feel obligated, yes." Thorin agrees sullenly.

Bilbo tries not to whimper pitifully.

"But that's not only why I stayed." Thorin says, looking at Bilbo straightforwardly. "I stayed because... I feel like I couldn't leave. Or that I shouldn't - that it's best for me to stay."

Bilbo stared back. "I don't... I don't understand."

"I'm not very good with words." Thorin answers. "I don't know how to make you understand, I've never felt like this before. It's difficult to explain..."

Bilbo doesn't flinch when Thorin lifts a hand, cups his cheek, strokes across the space under his eye with his thumb. Bilbo leans into the touch, closing his eyes as his face scrunches up. 

"Would you ever consider leaving the Shire?" Thorin asks quietly.

Bilbo shakes his head, but is careful not to dislodge Thorin's hand. "I thought about it... but I couldn't leave, not for long. Hobbits thrive in the forest, and a Hobbit without a forest is just..."

Thorin nods. "I understand." He breathes in quietly, then out. "I don't want to leave you."

Bilbo's sharp intake of breath, if noticed, goes unsaid. He stares, wide-eyed, until he can feel nothing but the warmth of Thorin's hand on his skin and the intensity of his gaze as he watches for the smallest changes in Bilbo's expressions.

When he sees nothing that is inherently displeasing, Thorin begins to lower his head and tilt Bilbo's chin up. Bilbo's breath labours, and his eyes drop to Thorin's lips. 

When they finally touch his, it's like nothing else matters.

Bilbo lets out a small whimper as his eyes flutter shut. Thorin kisses him with a passion Bilbo thought him incapable of - he works his lips over Bilbo's quicker than Bilbo can keep up, drawing him closer and closer until there was nothing between them. 

Bilbo whines when Thorin draws away, even as the Dwarf presses kiss after soft kiss to his swollen lips. 

"Come inside." Thorin coaxes, breathing heavily against Bilbo's lips as his eyes search Bilbo's face for something. 

The request takes a moment to compute, but when Bilbo finally hears it he nods, flustered. Thorin kisses him again, before turning to lead Bilbo back into his home. 

Bilbo reaches for his hand with both of his own, and without turning back Thorin grips his fingers tightly. He tries to ignore the embarrassment that colours his face red, but he can't help it. His heart races frantically as he tries not to think of Thorin leaving, of doing this out of nothing but pity for Bilbo, about him disappearing and never coming back-

Thorin's grip tightens around his fingers as if he could hear Bilbo's thoughts. He pulls Bilbo along just a little bit harder, keeping him from falling back into those thoughts.

Bilbo's bedroom looks darker in the absence of the sunlight that usually streams through the windows. Thorin pulls him in, doesn't bother shutting the door - there was no need anyway.

Thorin's lips descended on his before Bilbo had the chance to blink. He gripped the side of Bilbo's neck, but his hands didn't linger. They danced across his shoulder and slid around his waist and travelled back up his back. Bilbo sighed and whined and was on the verge of swooning when Thorin pulled away to allow him to breathe. 

"You can touch me." He whispers, rubbing Bilbo's cheeks as he takes in the Hobbit's flushed expression and watery eyes.

Bilbo turns red, but nods wordlessly regardless.

Thorin tilts his chin up a little more before pressing their lips together. It doesn't take long for him to manage to pry Bilbo's lips apart. The feeling of his tongue makes Bilbo moan quietly. Tentatively, he lifts his hands to press his palms against Thorin's chest. He is pleasantly surprised to find that he can feel Thorin's heart frantically beating away, much like his own.

Thorin guides them to the bed and lowers himself to the mattress, pulling Bilbo on top of him.

The feeling of being exposed with his wings clearly visible to anyone who could look through the window (not that there was anyone to do so) made him shiver.

And not in the good way.

Thorin noticed immediately, and wasted no time in turning them over. His hand pressed against the top of Bilbo's back, and he pulled away with a worried frown. "Your wings."

"'S fine." Bilbo breathes, feeling his wings flutter as Thorin carefully lowered him onto the mattress. He refrained from tucking them up tightly, but didn't spread them fully either - he left them half extended, moulded to the edge of his body and the mattress in a rather comfortable way. 

Once Thorin seemed appeased that Bilbo was comfortable, he lowered himself until their bodies were pressed together and ducked his head and placed a chaste kiss to Bilbo's lips. "Bilbo." He murmurs.

Bilbo whined, his hips twitching. He'd never get used to hearing Thorin call him that - it felt like a privilege, and it made his heart flutter. He felt safer, more in control, with Thorin hovering over him, like Thorin could protect him even from himself if something were to happen. It felt much better this way. It felt right.

He was unsure if Thorin would stay, and for how long. He had to find his family, his nephews, and he was likely aching to see the inside of a mountain. The offer to guide him out of the Shire woods still stood.

"Stop thinking so hard." Thorin muttered, frowning as he pressed his lips harder against Bilbo's.

Bilbo laughed quietly as tension drained from his shoulders. "Are you hungry?"

Thorin groaned at the question, and dragged his lips down Bilbo's throat, panting. "Can I...?"

Bilbo nodded.

"You have to say it." Thorin growled. 

Bilbo smiled faintly. "You can..."

Thorin scraped his teeth across Bilbo's flesh. 

It sent a spike of arousal down his spine that he hadn't expected. He cried out startlingly loud, and flushed deeply.

Thorin huffed against his skin at the sound, pressing his hips down. He opened his mouth, and for a moment Bilbo thought he wouldn't bite-

But he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really plan to end this mini-series like this, but to be honest I had no clue what to do for this chapter ^____T
> 
> I really like this series (aside from this last, misplaced instalment, haha~) I might consider turning this into a longer fic at some point, if time permits. If I were to do that, what are some things you would like to see happen? Ideas?


	31. A Little Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the request of an old friend, Bilbo takes in a trio of guests.

Bilbo hummed to himself as he straightened the vases of fresh flowers he kept evenly spaced along the dining table runner.

An old friend of his had asked him for a favour. It was a somewhat rare occasion for Gandalf to willing offer to owe Bilbo something, and really he wasn't asking for all that much. His home Bag-End was rather large and had many rooms that had no inherent use.

Three guests for a few months wouldn't be an issue, probably.

Besides, how could he possibly pass up the chance to be owed a favour by the great Gandalf Grey?

Just thinking of it made him giggle to himself. Oh, it felt rather great to have something over the kooky old man. Somehow, it was always Bilbo owing him something, never the other way around!

Bilbo tilted his head as he heard the sound of a car rumbling up his long driveway. It wasn't paved, and was a little rocky to drive across. Wide cars couldn't fit up it due to the overgrown forest on either side. 

He glanced down at himself. He was wearing shorts and a loose, plain white shirt with casual suspenders. It was a causal look, he supposed, if one were merely cleaning the house. Wincing, he rushed to find a waistcoat and hurriedly buttoned it up. He wanted to at least look somewhat respectable for his new guests - first impressions were always the most lasting, after all. 

The car stopped at his (somewhat crooked) front gate. Bilbo heard it being unlatched, and then the car came up the rest of the driveway. 

Bilbo took a deep breath, before wandering out onto his front porch. Gandalf exited the car first, and after saying something to the passengers he came up to greet Bilbo.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr Baggins." Gandalf gripped his hand, not quite shaking it. "Thank you again for taking them in."

"It's not a problem." Bilbo smiled faintly. "I do have quite a bit of free space up here."

Gandalf nodded as the three guests came up to stand behind him. "Bilbo, this is Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews, Fili and Kili." He turns to the trio. "This is Bilbo Baggins, your host."

"It's nice to meet you." Bilbo says, offering his hand. 

Thorin seems a little surprised as his carefree tone, but shuffles around the bags in his hands to grip Bilbo's. "Likewise."

"Here, let me take some of those." Bilbo offers.

"They're heavy-" Thorin startles, but Bilbo smiles and takes the bags. He was surprisingly strong, and it always felt a little good to see people shocked that someone of his stature could carry heavier things.

"This way then." Bilbo turns on his heels, just now realising his feet were still bare, to lead his guests into Bag-End. "Gandalf, take them to the sun room, please."

Gandalf seemed amused, but didn't protest as he ushered Kili and Fili into the sun room, where Bilbo had already left a plate of freshly baked scones with jam (and cookies just in case scones weren't to the tastes of his guests) and a fresh pot of tea.

"What are the rooming situations?" Bilbo asks as he leads Thorin through the maze of hallways and up the wooden stairs that sometimes creaked depending on where one stepped. 

"Is it possible for Kili and Fili to share a room?" Thorin questions. 

"Of course." Bilbo answers easily, pretending not to hear Thorin's small breath of relief. "Just up here is the upstairs bathroom - I've cleared out the top two drawers for anything you might wish to place in there, and there is a hamper in the corner for dirty clothing."

Thorin nods.

"These are mostly spare rooms for storage." Bilbo gestures to the closed doors. "This can be your nephew's room, if it is suitable."

Bilbo pushes the door open, revealing a lightly decorated room with a lot of floor space and a large, extremely padded bed beside a window with a seat.

"I can move a second bedside table in here, if they would like." Bilbo says as Thorin silently nods, eyes widened as he glanced around the room. "A second bedside lamp, too. Their clothing can go in the wardrobe, and if need be the tallboy. I can get different bed sheets if you want-"

"Mr Baggins, this is... good." Thorin answers carefully, looking at him gratefully.

Bilbo grins widely, and places the bags in his hands down on the bed. "Okay, that's good. I was worried this might not be alright - I mean, the bed sheets are kind of old, and I worried that a floral print, even thought its subtle, might not be suitable... but the sheets are really soft, and are good insulators of heat. Perfect for winter."

Thorin just nods, glancing around the room again.

Bilbo "ah's" to himself as he remembers something, and begins rifling through the pockets of his shorts in search for an object he placed there earlier for safekeeping. Eventually his fingers tighten around the small key buried at the bottom. 

He draws it out, hanging by a threaded chain, and offers it to Thorin. "It's the key to this room. I don't mind if the doors are locked, but I'll leave it up to you to decide whether you give it to them or not."

Thorin nods, and takes the key.

Bilbo flounces out of the room, smiling to himself. This was going much more pleasantly than he could have hoped for. It felt nice to have guests. 

"Now, I made up two extra rooms because I wasn't sure which one you would prefer. One faces the sun in the morning, and the other in the evening. This is my room." Bilbo gestures to a plain looking door, then moves to the one next to it. "This is the one that faces the sun in the morning."

Thorin peers into the room curiously. It was a little smaller than Bilbo's, but had a decently sized bed and a window with a seat below it, like most rooms in the house. 

"It shares a bathroom with my room." Bilbo says, gesturing to the door on the far wall. "But the doors lock from the inside, so if you go to use it - which you are free to - just make sure you lock both doors."

Thorin nods.

"Again, I can change the bed sheets if needed. There's a hamper in both rooms for dirty clothes - if you want to move in a desk or another bedside table, that's fine too, there's heaps of spares. Do you want to see the other room-?"

"No, this is good." Thorin says, heaving his bags up onto the bed. "I like it."

Bilbo beams in pride. "Glad to hear it." He rifles through his pocket again. "Here, your key. Do with it what you will."

Thorin takes it from him, and offers a small smile that makes him look twice as handsome. "Thank you for taking us in. I don't know how I will ever repay you."

"Nonsense." Bilbo waved a hand. "Repay me by fixing that silly front gate! Honestly, I don't mind having guests." He chuckles, hiding his laughter behind a hand before weaving both behind his back. "The house already feels more lively."

Thorin nods slowly.

"Now, best to go make sure Gandalf isn't drinking all the tea I left in the sunroom. He tends to do that, you know - drinking all my tea, dropping by without a word - really, he's quite the menace."

Thorin nods, but he appears more relaxed as he trails after Bilbo.

"Oh, do remind me to give you three the tour later. The house is rather big, I'd hate for you to get lost in the middle of the night. Goodness knows how I used to when I was little."

Thorin chuckles quietly. 

Bilbo led him to the sun room, where a series of large windows allowed natural light to stream in throughout most of the day. Walls lined with bookshelves meant that Bilbo mostly used it to read, but it was a perfect reception room.

"Kili." Thorin scolded when he saw his nephews hands full of half-eaten cookies. 

Kili, the brown haired one, looked at his Uncle with wide eyes. "They're really good." He mumbles around the cookies in his mouth.

Fili looked equally guilty - he had scone crumbs and a spot of jam staining his lips.

"I'm glad to see you like them." Bilbo says happily, moving to take a seat in his favourite armchair. "Gandalf, did you drink all the tea?"

"Who, me? Why, I would never." Gandalf answers, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "I left just enough for both you and Thorn, you see."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you?" He addresses Thorin.

For what it was worth, Thorin just looked amused. 

 

Gandalf left before the sun set, so he could see where he drove when heading down Bilbo's rather bumpy driveway.

Bilbo spent the better part of an hour explaining detailed rules for his household, much of it at Thorin's persistence. He seemed to want to make sure his nephews knew exactly where their boundaries were.

"Just make sure to keep your room clean, and to place your dirty clothes in the hampers provided. I'm used to doing most of the chores here, but if you ever feel so inclined, feel free to join me." Bilbo grins at Kili and Fili's snickers. "It would probably be best if you didn't venture outside at night, either. It's a little confusing out there with all the trees."

Thorin nodded.

Bilbo watched them for a moment, before grinning and standing. "Alright, I'll get started on dinner. Thorin can show you to your room."

With that, he leaves them to be, assured that they won't damage any of his china or kill any plants in his garden.

Really, it felt nice to have visitors.

And Thorin was rather attractive, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Month three, complete~! (90 day's down, too)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me throughout this little project of mine. My last two exams are tomorrow, so I will have more time to write better quality stories without the rush.
> 
> If you have any ideas, feel free to leave them below or over at my [Tumblr](http://milkteamiku.tumblr.com/) if you would prefer~ I have a few saved up to do for April, but I really want to explore more pairings (probably in the background, because I found that Thilbo calls my soul and is a little difficult to ignore). March was a bit of a troublesome month for me, unfortunately~
> 
> Also, just a note~ I originally planned this to be like the movie "The Secret World of Arrietty". I imagined Kili would have a heart condition, and would move to Bag-End to relax before the surgery, but I didn't get time to write that all~ I can just imagine the Elves as the little people (pfft- tiny Thranduil with his thorny crown, can you imagine?). However, I feel like leaving it at this is okay, and a nice way to end the month~
> 
> Again, thanks for sticking with me so far~ （●´∀｀）ノ♡


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